


A Wingbeat of Moonlight

by AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But It Doesn't Really Affect The Plot, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale is Not a Failwolf, Drinking, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I've Never Done A Fic Like This Before, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Not In A Way That Matters, Prince Stiles, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Threats of Violence, but nothing that graphic, this is gonna be a ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 05:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20577362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle/pseuds/AllTheseSquaresMakeACircle
Summary: Derek's mother had always told him to beware of that which walked through the trees. The creatures that walked between ths world and others. He had always listened. Then, he happened to meet Stiles one night. Ever since then, things never really seemed to calm down.





	A Wingbeat of Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written FaeStiles! before. Should be fun. I had fun writing it. I hope ya'll enjoy. It's short by my standards, but I hope I get the story across in a way that ya'll can appreaciate.

A Wingbeat of Moonlight

It was cool and still. The night was a good as Derek thought it could be. He loved it. Where the trees slept in placid silence. And all the beats of land and sky joined them. Cora always complained that they were too far away from town. Too isolated. Their family was well liked, and people often asked questions. But it was for the best.

Being werewolves was a dangerous business sometimes. They all understood that. It had been drilled into them from the time they were pups. Humans feared what they didn’t understand. They became violent and vengeful. Attacking without cause or hesitation.

Derek had seen it firsthand. When he was still only a boy. Men and women, clad in leather armor. Wielding great swords of silver. Not that silver did anything in particular to them. That, humans got wrong. But a blade was a blade.

They kept their distance. Staying hidden amongst the trees. Away from the knowing world, yet still wholly a part of it. He didn’t mind their home in the woods. It was peaceful, if sometimes lonely. He wasn’t keen on leaving. His pack was all he needed.

He was more in tune with his wolf than his siblings. Laura was going to be alpha one day. She was going to lead the pack, taking the position from their mother. She was regal, and poised. For all appearances, she was human.

Cora was the wild one. She had yet to be tempered by experience or fear. The wolf in her would not be tamed by simplicity or civility. At heart, his sister was a fighter. A powerful one. The young woman trained each and every day.

Betas had to be strong for their alpha. Laura may have been their eventual leader, but Derek and sister had to be fighters. They had to help protect their pack. They had to help protect their family. That’s how wolves functioned. That’s how they dealt with threats.

Speaking of threats, he felt one. It wasn’t obvious. In fact, it was barely there. A fleeting, already gone feeling that made his hackles raise in alarm. Not fear, but alarm. His wolf was on alert. Looking for the force that made him so anxious.

Walking further into the trees, away from the house, may have been a mistake. But Derek was curious. The man was, anyway. His wolf would let him know if there was any real danger. Would let him know if there was a real threat that he had to fight.

The forest welcomed him. Taking him into its embrace, into the pitch of night. He had no trouble seeing. Werewolves were creatures of the night. They thrived on it. But their friend the moon was hidden. Thickly veiled by clouds overhead. He felt no fear.

The ground was soft beneath his feet. Supple soil alive and healthy. Full of small, crawling things. Little things. Some of them moved over his toes. He was closer now. Closer to whatever it was that made him feel so on edge.

The clearing he walks into is small. Grass, which should’ve been green as with the spring, muted by the darkness of the night. The beasts of the wood slept in peace. There was not a sound. No sign of movement. But still, he felt.

Felt something that didn’t belong. Or rather, it did belong. But it was strange and new and unknown. Now that he was here, the scent came to him. It was like the forest. Green and bright and clean. But somehow more.

It was the first kiss of the sun during spring. Or the hazy heat of summer. Maybe it was the soft spice of autumn. Or perhaps…perhaps it was the first bite of winter. Derek didn’t know what to make of it. It was all the seasons, all the months of the year, rolled into one.

He could see nothing. Could hear nothing. The scent had no marker. It was simply there. Alive and breathing. Even if he could not hear its breath. Which worried him. There were plenty of creatures in the world that went along with werewolves. Not all of them were friendly.

They’d come across some, now and again Most were peaceful. Unwanting of conflict or violence. That being said, they were no less terrifying. This one, whatever it happened to be, preferred to remain unseen. Derek had to give it a reason to feel otherwise.

Such creatures, creatures that could not be seen with the naked eye, fell into one of two categories. Peaceful on principal, but could be wrathful if offended. The second, outright malicious from the start. Treating others as toys or prey.

Derek was a werewolf. He was no one’s prey. But he was in danger. If this thing was the latter, he needed to be careful. He could escape if he was careful. Such creatures could be appeased by offering or sweet words. Though he was no poet.

He had only a small satchel with him. A bare minimum of food. He didn’t keep that much with him. The forest wood provide so long as he was willing to hunt. Some dried meats and stale bread didn’t seem like that great of an offering.

As he steps closer into the clearing, he finally hears something. Soft and supple. A single footstep, passing over the ground. Almost as if who it belonged to wasn’t really there to begin with. Derek wondered if this creature of was an illusionist.

He had no way to combat it should that be the case. Werewolves had no magic. Well, not magic in the way people thought of magic. Wolves had magic in their blood. Old things, old power. The power to change shape and run equal with nature.

Magic users, those who learned it, practiced to push their magic outwards. Away from themselves. Manifesting it in strange and spectacular ways. Deaton was one such person. His powers, like wolves, was tied to nature. Thrumming with life and greenery and maddening joy.

This, this felt like that. In a way. Whatever it was, certainly had magic. Certainly had power. Certainly could take Derek down with little effort. But it didn’t feel….Hostile. Alarming, for sure. If only for the sheer force of it.

Derek knew better than to try and fight. Whatever had come to their woods was strange but familiar in the same moment. Maybe it was a shapeshifter to. Maybe their form was like Derek’s. Maybe it was nothing like his. His curiosity was trumping his anxiety. He wanted to meet whatever it was.

As if answering his inquiries, the heavens parted. Clouds receding. Revealing the moon in a waxing crescent. Illuminating the forest floor with silver light. He was struck by the simple beauty of it. Even more so by the figure that his eyes beheld.

It was a man, or, it looked like one. A slender young man, draped in robes as silver as the moon. Dangling with gold and platinum. Barefoot, looking up towards the trees. He was stunning. Derek was mesmerized. Then, he was frightened.

The young wolf had heard of creatures like this before. They were children of the trees. Of light and star fire and all things that escaped the notions of man. Fae. That was the word his mother had used. Ancient. Older than men. Older than wolves.

Depending on who you asked, they were peaceful creatures. So long as you didn’t pay them offense. Which was a dangerous game to play. Fae were fickle, capricious, and on occasion, vindictive. He had to tread even more carefully now. The man hadn’t noticed him yet.

Derek, knowing better than to just simply turn around, stepped further forward. Willing each footfall to be as silent as a gravestone. He wasn’t trying to sneak up or surprise the Fae. Only trying to be able to announce his presence without alarming him.

The wind shifted. A gentle, kiss-like breeze blew over the grass. Over Derek. Maybe the Fae had enhanced senses as well. Because the young man turned, eyes alight with intrigue and splendor. He eyed Derek with the gleaming interest of a child. But he was no babe.

The smile he offers is small, and welcoming. Derek feels no danger. This Fae wasn’t going to hurt him. Not at the moment anyway. Derek does not smile back. Part of him wants to. Part of him wants to run. He knows that would be rude. And that was the last thing he wanted.

“You’re trespassing.” The words weren’t meant to be harsh. Only truthful. Beautiful the man may have been. But he was still on Hale land.

“Was I? Must’ve slipped my mind somehow. The trees here are so pretty, I didn’t take the time to consider if anyone was living here already.”

“Perhaps, in the future, take that into consideration. As others may not be as gracious.”

“Gracious? In what way? You haven’t even given me your name.” Derek knew that trick. It was one of the most talked about amongst the Fae.

The Fae were old things. Old creatures from old realms. Who occasionally walked among the world of mortals. But there was a legend. A story within a story. A Fae queen, the first Fae queen, tried to trick an elder god.

She tried to deceive the god for her own personal gain. Trying to take what was not hers to take. So, as punishment, the god cursed her. Her and all the world’s Fae. Their tongues were bewitched to only be able to tell the truth. That they could, never again, utter a single lie.

As a result, the Fae grew to be clever beyond reproach. They were smarter than any other race. They were also quite literal. ‘Giving’ his name would’ve been taken as actually giving his name. Which would’ve been a mistake. As the Fae would then have power over him.

“I cannot give you my name. As it isn’t my name to give. It was given to me by my mother, and hers from her mother. And so on. Our names belong to our ancestors. Therefore, they cannot be so easily traded.”

“Clever wolf. I like you. Well, if you will not give me your name, may I know your name instead?”

“Derek.” He gave nothing else. A name based magic, all flesh magic needed more than that.

“Derek. ‘Ruler of the people’ that means. Mine is in the old tongue. In a language long forgotten by this world, and those who live in it. But for the sake of it, you may call me Stiles.”

“And what brings you to our woods, Stiles?”

“Boredom, mostly. Our kind tends to be….uneasy when things are still. These woods move and breathe. Quite a thing to witness. If one takes the time.”

Derek wondered if there was more to what the Fae was saying. He couldn’t lie outright. But he didn’t have to give his entire truth either. That was the trick. Asking the right questions. Asking the right thing to get more information.

“Have you been here long?”

“Not by the standards I’m accustomed to. But I suppose from yours, a few days. In this realm’s time at least.”

“And what of your own? Your realm that is?”

“Tedious, melancholy, and entirely to focused on playing with mortals. And not in the good way. I prefer solitude to that of my brethren. They are so…..what’s the word, they’re simply too much.”

“You sound like a bereaved parent.”

“An accursed thing to suggest. Children at my age…Entirely too young.” Derek laughed. The Fae, Stiles was genuinely charming.

“Do you have plans to return? Not that I’m asking you to.”

“None at the moment. My father will call, soon enough. Though I have been known to ignore him. From time to time.”

“I perish the thought of ignoring my mother. She would sooner have my neck wrung.”

“You wolves sound like a violent lot. But I can see you’re little more than an overgrown puppy.”

Derek took offense to that. He hadn’t been a pup for quite a number of years. The Fae, Stiles, was playing with him. His wolf wanted to growl. Growl and bear its teeth. To show the man how much of a pup he wasn’t.

But he didn’t. As irksome as the young Fae could be, he was…entertaining. He hadn’t been malicious, or deceptive. Not overly truthful, but he wasn’t a threat. Even if he was powerful. Derek wondered if all their kind was like this. So full of magic.

“Your face is adorable when you think. Tell me, little wolf, what are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking how dangerous you are. But you seem to be no more a threat than a single drop of rain.”

“Careful. A single drop of rain can be that which starts the flood.”

“Are you planning one, Fae?” Derek raised his eyebrow.

“So rude, and no. I have no power over the clouds. Nor do I desire it. They are strong thing, with a will of their own. Such a foolish thing to try and shackle them.”

“Are you truly here out of boredom alone?”

“No.” The Fae could not lie. So they never gave the full truth. At least, not without the right prompting. Derek didn’t want to mean ill will. But he didn’t have any reason to trust this Fae either.

“This land is not for the taking. We have guarded it for generations. And we will, till the end of our line.”

“I am no threat to your land, or your pack, little wolf. I just happen to find your trees a little more interesting than those of the surrounding forests.”

The young Fae gazes upwards towards the canopy of green. Eyes quivering with curiosity. He looked as if he was seeing the most wonderful thing in the world. As if the trees were the world’s greatest creations. Like they were divine.

To the Fae, they may very well be. Wolves, even more modern ones, revered the moon. There were plenty of stories and legends. Days and nights that they celebrated. Where the pack truly came together. Enjoying the splendor of their power.

That’s what the moon was. Power. Power of the hunt. Power of the chase. Wolves were tied to the moon. Lived by it. Died by it. Loved by it. That was their way. It held sway over them like no other force. It was a truth that Derek had come to accept.

Stiles, whatever race of Fae he was, seemed enamored with all things green and growing. There were of course, many types of Fae. The most famous were of the forest. Of the bugs. Of beasts of land and sky. The lesser known ones were not any less capricious.

The one that stood before him seemed…fixated. Concentrated and focused solely on appreciating the beauty of what was around him. Hardly a thing that would play a malicious trick. Or steal away a child in the night.

He wondered if they could form a friendship. Maybe something that would ensure peace between them. That they would never bring harm or malevolence to one another’s families. Fae had been known to treat with mortal realms before. One just had to find the right wording.

“Are you alone in this adventure, or does another accompany you?”

“I am never alone. But if you are asking if they are more Fae, the answer is no. I came alone. Though my father would think to send a search party. Or a few knights at least.”

“Your father is a man who could command a knight. A man of station then.”

“I suppose. It depends on who you ask. Some think him to be, others, just another man.”

Derek hated the way Stiles talked. It was loose and missing details. That’s how the Fae always stayed one step ahead. Always cleverly crafted words. They were very careful with how they spoke. It irked him to no end.

“I thank you for this conversation. Werewolves aren’t so bad. Even if you do smell like a river.”

“Well, that is where we bathe.” Stiles laughed at that. It was beautiful thing. Like wind over clean stones.

“A parting gift then.” The young Fae produces a trinket. It is a pin. No thicker than a hair. A small crest at the top of it. Derek was no silversmith, but he could tell a things worth. It was not cheap. By any consideration.

Offending a Fae had often long reaching consequences. So, he accepted it. Pushing it into the collar of his tunic. As a return, he offered Stiles a loaf of bread, and the dried meats he had with him. He would apologize to his mother later.

He accepted them graciously. Even though he had nothing to carry them in. Derek wondered if he had even eaten. What did Fae eat anyway? Better safe than sorry. If the man was hungry, food would’ve been the best gift. Despite the fact that it wasn’t the greatest of quality.

Stiles gives him another one of his smiles. Then, he walks into the trees. Footsteps silent and gone within a breath. Derek wonders if he was ever really there. The Fae were mischievous at the best of times. Perhaps he’d been dreaming. The moon told him otherwise.

His dreams wouldn’t have done it justice. Derek was not quite that imaginative. He begins walking back towards the house. Running his finger over the pin Stiles had given him. There is a strange sensation that comes with it.

A sense of calm. A sense of peace. Not drowsiness or haziness. But relaxation. Maybe it was charmed. Maybe Stiles had spelled it, and he was waiting for Derek to be lured into a false sense of security. He did not think so.

Clever and dodgy Stiles may have been. But he was not evil or malignant. At least, he didn’t seem to be. Derek had no reason to trust him. At the same time, he had no reason to distrust him. For the moment, he was content to wait and see. After all, Fae were as clever as the devil, and twice as pretty.

***

When he arrives home, the pack descends upon him like a dying man upon a well. The first one to reach him, is his mother. His leader. His alpha. Her arms wrap around him in a familiar way. Much like when he was a pup. And he played a little too roughly.

She is inspecting for injuries. For pain. For sources of distress. His alpha is worrying over him. It’s a nostalgic sensation. One that he does not understand. He is not, in any way, injured. There was no reason to be worried. There was no reason to be concerned. Still, his pack would not settle.

Laura was even worse. She actually lifted his tunic. Looking for something that was not there. Cora’s face was pinched in a bad way. His baby sister was never one for soft expressions. But this was even worse. Peter just observed from a respectable distance.

His uncle said nothing. But his eyes swarmed with dark shadows. Ten thousand curses lived and died in them. Screaming a silent scream. Sending a shiver down the young wolf’s spine. It was the angriest he’d ever seen the man. He never wanted to see it again.

“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” His mother was borderline frantic.

“Hurt me, no. No one hurt me.”

“Those creatures aren’t known for being kind. You reek of them. What did they do?” Peter’s eyes were glaring gold now.

“Nothing. He and I talked. That’s it. I wanted to know why he was on our land. He said the trees were pretty.”

His mother, his alpha, didn’t like the implication. Perhaps she was right to be concerned. The Fae rarely did anything without reason. Rarely every interacted outside their people without purpose. Even if they were alluring, they were no less dangerous.

“Did he ask anything of you? Demand anything?” Peter’s arms were crossed now.

“He tried to fool me into giving my name away, like the old stories. I didn’t. I told him, but I didn’t give it.”

“An equally foolish decision.”

“I didn’t want to offend him. Even if he did seem friendly. Remember, they can’t lie. I didn’t feel threatened by him. Alert, but not threatened.”

Laura was the next one whose eyes flared. She would be alpha one day. She would lead and protect their pack. Derek wanted to cower away. To bear his neck, and placate his sister’s anger. Even though it wouldn’t solved nothing.

“I don’t like it. They haven’t been on this land in over a century. Why now?”

“Irrelevant. They’re here, and we need to find a way to get rid of them.” Peter was suggesting something dangerous.

“I don’t think he’ll be back. I mean, he left with no intent to return. He said something about his father, and not wanting to upset him.”

“Try, dear nephew, not to be fooled. They are tricksters at heart. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Other than my name, he tried no trick. He even gave me a gift.” The young wolf pointed towards the tiny pin in his tunic.

Peter tried to rip it from him. The younger wolf retreated back, baring fang. Growling lowly in his throat. The threat was obvious. And it was not well received. His uncle bared fang back, making a challenge. Talia smacked them both upside the head.

“It was foolish to accept a gift that you could not repay.”

“I did repay it. In bread and meat. Isn’t that what they Fae love best, offerings of food?” His words didn’t appease his mother. Her eyes still shone red, body wracked with tension. The whole pack was uneasy. Derek understand why.

Yes, he’d encountered a Fae. And yes, that Fae had tried to swindle his name. But after Derek proved to be too clever, they got along nicely. They held a conversation and appreciated the beauty of the night. The young wolf found him intriguing.

“I hope that this is the end of this. The Fae are fickle, at best. Using mortals as playthings. I’ll summon Deaton. The pin might be spelled, and we need to know the danger if it is.”

“Regardless, sister, we should discard it. Fae metal reeks of scheming and heartbreak.” Peter was still half shifted.

“Discarding a Fae gift is an offense. He left in peace, why tempt the fates? Let him keep it.” Cora had finally spoken. And she said the last thing Derek expected her to.

The Fae, at best, were fickle creatures. Slithering through shadow like particles of dust. Unbent, but ever changing. They felt one way, then, the next. But one certainty, one unbreakable truth, was this. A gift from a Fae was not to be taken lightly. It was not to be discarded.

To do so was an offense. To do so was an affront. It offered insult and invited war beyond lifetimes. A Fae’s anger lasted three generations. Or, that was the legend at least. Derek had felt no ill will from Stiles. Felt no malice in his smile. He couldn’t discard what was given. He would keep it. Even though some of his pack may disagree.

The night was still young, though none of them could hope of finding rest. There was a Fae in their woods. A creature old and timeless. Yet ethereal all the same. Derek wondered if he’d ever see him again. It was intriguing thing to think about. He kept those thoughts to himself.

When Deaton arrives, the whole pack stands together. It was dangerous to summon their emissary so late. The movement of it could attract unwanted attention from the humans of the town. Deaton was not the type of man who could go unnoticed.

He was not from this land. Hailing from an island much farther to the south. Skin dark with the sun. His people were wise from birth. Fierce priests, and humble warriors. He was magical and silent as stone. When it suited him anyway.

Talia greets him with a tense sort of smile. The man does not return it. Instead, his eyes are fixed on Derek. Gleaming with pointed interest. There is a light in them that he had not seen before. It worries him. As much as anything else in this night could.

He approaches without a word, taking the pin between his fingers. He examines it with a certain brand of intensity. It makes Derek nervous. Deaton was never loquacious to begin with. But this sharp silence was even more unnerving than usual.

“You were gifted this, by a Fae?”

“Yes. It was a gift for an entertaining conversation. That’s what he said.”

“This is more than a gift. Fae metal is valuable by itself. But this…This is worth an entire coffer of gold. It’s not spelled, or enchanted. It’s the skill that makes it worth so much. There aren’t many smiths, Fae or otherwise, that could make something like this.”

That in of itself was intriguing. That meant there was more to Stiles than Derek originally thought. His father was a man of station. The Fae had given that much when he said the man could give orders to a knight. To have metal of this caliber meant having money.

Derek didn’t know how the Fae held their hierarchy. But money was universal, regardless of species. One didn’t just magically make it appear, even if they were magic. Stiles came from it, and probably had it. The pin was proof of that.

The question now was why he’d given it away. So easily at that. The Fae rarely did anything without reason. They certainly didn’t give gifts without it. There was an underlying motive, a hidden thing that wasn’t obvious. At least, not yet.

Derek didn’t think that the Fae meant anything malicious. Or even something that was motivated by trickery. It was something else entirely. He just couldn’t think of what it might’ve been. The Fae operated in their world, and in this one. What they did, usually had a purpose in both.

His family didn’t seem to take comfort in the knowledge that the pin was, in fact, not spelled. That there was no danger of a trick or a curse. It seemed that knowing the item’s worth helped nothing. And only served to increase their anxieties. Derek decided not to worry about it. There was the morning to be had, and work to be done.

***

When the sun rises, Derek is the second up. The first, was his father. The man was greyed with age, and more round than he once was. Age had been kinder to him than most. He was a laborer, working in the town alongside the humans. They never knew otherwise what his true nature was.

He’d gotten rather good at hiding his strength. The power in his hands and arms was that of several men. Making sure that stayed hidden was imperative. Men often grew suspicious with little provocation. The townspeople valued his work. And never had a curse to say against him.

The kettle boils with water. Steaming heartily as he prepares the morning tea. It as a hearty drink. Full of herbs and spice. The family always enjoyed it. Derek never missed it, or grew tired of the scent the permeated their kitchen.

There is also a slab of bacon hanging above the fire, slowly roasting over crimson flames. The rich aroma of fat made Derek’s mouth water. His father didn’t like frying the meat. He said it ruined the fat. Slowly roasting it rendered the meat. Made it all the more tender.

Derek wordlessly helps his father prepare breakfast. Sometimes it was his mother. Sometimes it was Laura. It all depended on who got up first. That was the unspoken agreement. Up first, start on breakfast. Derek always made sure to be the second at best. He hated mornings.

The smell of the bacon roasting aroused the rest of the pack. Cora is first, stumbling into the kitchen. Sleep dredged, but alert enough to move towards the fire. Their father smacks her hand for trying to snag a piece of food.

Laura and Peter are next. They know better. Talia was the last to join them, surprisingly enough. His mother’s eyes are wrought with tension. Lines where they shouldn’t be. The stress of last night, plus the unknown of today, made for her unkempt appearance.

They eat with the usual energy that a pack of ravenous werewolves had. There was enough food to satisfy their appetites. But they knew better to gorge themselves. There was always a time where meat was lean. Even if they were natural hunters, nature had a balance. And disrupting it had consequences.

When the meal is done, Cora and Laura help with the cleaning. That was how they kept order. Whoever cooked was excused from the duty. The others would help prepare for the rest of the day. Peter had his garden. Full of herbs and simple vegetables. They traded in town frequently.

Talia tended a small flock of turkeys. The beasts were ill tempered, but fat and rich when cooked. The town lord always bought two during the winter months. Sometimes more. They were prized among the townspeople. Sometimes, in the leaner months, Talia would butcher the older ones. Giving them to the families that needed them most.

Derek was a skilled hunter and trapper. Catching beast of river and land. Years of practice had made him a skilled butcher. Able to cleave the finest cuts with precisions. His sisters were carvers. An unusual trade for women. But their skill overruled any of the more traditional folk.

They had a hand in helping rebuild the town hall. As well as the buildings they used for grain storage. There was a sizable coin purse for each of them when they were done. After that, there weren’t many objections to women doing man’s work.

Derek leaps out of the house, taking off into the forest. He loves his family, loves his pack. But after last night, their clinginess had gotten a little overwhelming. The young wolf understood well enough. The Fae were considered dangerous by humans as well. So for one to be in the woods was a cause of concern.

If the humans knew, there’d be some manner of panic. Of all the horror stories and nightmares they perpetuated, the Fae stood at the top. Tricking women into marriage. Stealing away babies in the night. Replacing them with Fae babes. There were an endless list of alleged horrors.

And where humans panicked, non-humans were at threat. The pack hadn’t had any issues with the townspeople. So far. There was never a foul word said against them. Only an innocent curiosity. Derek could live with that. What he couldn’t live with, was their unreasonable hysteria.

But Stiles didn’t seem like the type of Fae to needlessly make trouble. He had stayed in the trees. Admiring the greenery. The nature of the mortal world. Finding peace and comfort amongst the sea of proud, brown trunks.

Derek didn’t think that the young Fae was the tricking type. Sure, he was mischievous. All Fae were, but he made no effort to bring harm to anyone. Just a simple little game. That any of his kind would play. The young wolf thought that his family was overreacting.

The first of his traps is filled with several fish. River dwellers were rich in fat, and not too oily. Derek wasn’t much on fish, but food was food. All his rabbit traps are full. He breaks their necks with swift mercy.

Werewolves reveled in the chase. Of coursing through the woods, barreling down on prey. But as a trapper, there was no such satisfaction. It would please his family, and the villagers who he sold to. The wolf, however, grumbled with displeasure. He hated such off-hand victory.

Derek ignores his wolf, taking his haul back to the house. When he arrives back, his sisters are chasing a wayward turkey. It’s managed to run off, and it’s giving them an appropriate amount of hell. Werewolves may be able to heal quickly, but a bird’s beak and talons still hurt quite a bit.

It was Laura that managed to grab the beast, wrangling it back to the pens. Derek was amazed that his sister didn’t wring the thing’s neck. The only reason she didn’t, was because their mother would’ve wrung hers.

He takes a moment to laugh. Even though they sometimes feared for their livelihoods, that hunters may come bashing down their doors, he loved his family. Even if they were, at times, a tad ridiculous. Peter greets him as his stomach starts to cramp.

He takes three of the rabbits and begins to skin them without a word. His uncle was never an affectionate man. Nor known for his compassion. Peter worked, like the rest of the pack, for their livelihood. Just without the usual ruckus.

Peter was a….difficult man. A lifetime living in Talia’s shadow did nothing for his attitude. He was an excellent beta, and served their alpha well. But he was always adjacent to power, and never able to hold it for himself.

Part of him must’ve resented that. There was also the lack of a mate. He would be forty soon. Young, by the standards of a werewolf. Yet, there were still snide comments and sniggering whenever other packs visited.

Derek understood why he didn’t have a mate yet. Their name was famous, as was their bloodline. They weren’t royalty or anything. That kind of thing didn’t exist with werewolves. They had no king. But the name of Hale was known for cleverness, endurance, and a strong tendency to produce robust wolves.

Derek was viewed as a prized stallion, as was Peter. They were the only unmarried Hale men. When other packs came around, no matter how well mannered, their unmated females always glanced a little too long.

Peter was more than happy to accept casual flings, and unattached sex. That was what he specialized in. Perhaps it was intentional, but it certainly didn’t help anyone make an effort with him. At least, no one worthwhile. Derek pitied him.

His uncle says nothing as he skins the rabbits. Even with his angry strokes, there is no damage to the meat or pelts. He’s honestly impressed. The man hands them over, taking the meat to start preparing for dinner. He still hasn’t spoken.

Derek takes the pelts to be washed. The blacksmith in town will make fine leather from it. And give Derek the first pick when it was ready. They had a rather good arrangement. Especially with the deer he occasionally brought in.

The beasts, even the females, were huge in these woods. A single one of the beasts could feed an entire family for weeks. As long as they weren’t greedy. Though he was careful not to overhunt them. Winter could be lean more often than not, and meat was precious.

When he arrives in town, a few people turn their heads his way. The Hales were known and respected. Even if they did live in the woods, away from the rest of the population. There was never an ill word said against them. Curiosity was just a motivating factor.

He ignores all of them, making his way towards the blacksmith. Jordan is hammering away on an anvil, banging away at glowing iron. The man was well built, as was custom in his craft. Derek could always smell something that wasn’t human.

He’d encountered others like him, shifters, in town before. They never acknowledged each other. Jordan was a good man, who was excellent at his trade. What he was made no difference. As long as he delivered, and he always did.

The man receives the pelts with a boyish grin. Promising to have them completed by weeks end. Derek gives him a portion of the meat as a thank you. No one greets him as he makes his way back into the trees.

When he arrives home, Cora is chopping away at an oak tree. No doubt, another project. Laura specialized in building materials. Their younger sister made beautiful furniture. Several towns ordered. Even if her demeanor left something to be desired, the young she-wolf let her work speak for itself.

The day is beginning to warm, with sun peaking behind wispy clouds. Derek could feel sweat bead on his neck. Hopefully, with any luck, there would be a breeze soon. If not, he could always go cool off in the river. There was no one to make any complaints about it.

He can smell the rabbit roasting when he reaches the house. Rich and fragrant with herbs. Part of it would be for lunch. Part of it would be for dinner. They had more than most, but their lives were no means opulent. Derek had no resentments because of it.

His father greets him, and tells him to set the table. Derek does so, knowing that their house will be brimming with activity soon. There was a part of him that wanted a little peace. While he loved his family dearly, always having them around was something a nuisance at times.

He was…odd. Wolves were supposed to revel in pack. Never tiring of it. Always finding comfort Perhaps it’s because he was a little wilder. But he always loved the comfort of the trees as opposed to being surrounded by his pack all the time.

When they eat, he finishes quickly, cleaning up for himself. His mother doesn’t ask where he’s going. But he gives her some generic excuse anyway. Something about going hunting again. They could always dry the meat. Or smoke it. His father was rather good at that.

The woods are cooler once he enters canopy of the trees. Birds flitting about, singing beautifully. Small creatures scurrying about the forest floor. Wolves never went unnoticed. To some degree at least. He could silence his footsteps all he wanted. But he could do nothing about his scent.

That was the most difficult part about tracking. Making sure to always stay upwind of one’s prey. He made sure that he did, less he lost valuable meat. His father had drilled it into him with the veracity of iron. An alpha protects, a beta provides.

That was their family’s moto. Contribute, no matter birth, gender, or station. He was the only son, but that didn’t mean he was excluded from providing for his pack. Other alphas, as his father said, were lazy. Making their woman do most of the work.

The men hunted, the woman cleaned and prepped and knitted. That, and produced cubs. They were just that old fashioned. Derek didn’t see the point in that kind of thinking. If everyone contributed equally, there was more to go around. And everyone had it easier.

He tries not to let his thoughts wander as he moves deeper into the trees. His family aside, he was here to enjoy a little time before going back to work. Just a small amount of relaxation. But, as it turned out, fate had other plans for him.

The scent finds him just as he starts to relax. It’s one he knows well. It’s one his parents had always taught him to be aware of. That it meant danger, and that he needed to run. Never fight, always run. The scent of foreign alpha.

He hears the alpha before he sees him. The man, quite literally, comes barreling through the forest. Although, from the looks of him, he’s more beast than man. He’s fully shifted, in broad daylight. Eyes glaring dangerously red. There isn’t a single trace of his mind left.

Derek doesn’t have to wonder why. The alpha is covered in slashes that ooze black filth. The scent of his sickness overpowers everything else. He was attacked by someone carrying wolfsbane laced weapons. He’d managed to escape, but he would be dead soon.

Derek would be as well. Wolves in this state didn’t have any rational thought processes left. They ran on pure instinct. Killing anything that they thought was a threat. An unknown wolf in a strange territory would count as that.

He wanted to howl. Wanted to call for his pack. If the alpha got too close to the town, human lives would be in danger. And by extension, their own. Hunters would descend, and start an inquisition. Many more would die.

He turns to run just as the alpha charges him. Derek didn’t stand a chance. He feels the man’s claws pierce his side, straight past his ribs. The pain makes him cry out. Loud enough that his pack would’ve heard him.

They would be here soon, but not soon enough for him to live. But he wasn’t gonna go down without a fight. The man isn’t paying attention. The only thought he has is slashing Derek to death. His neck his full exposed. Derek takes advantage, and clamps down with the fury of a thousand devils.

Beta he may have been, but a bite to throat was damaging to any wolf. Alpha or otherwise. The enraged wolf doesn’t even notice the pain. Just that his life is in danger. He claws Derek’s side again, ripping flesh from bone.

The adrenaline dulls the pain, and he keeps fighting. He’s pinned, but not stupid. He knows what to do. He grabs the alpha’s head as tightly as he can, then, he wrenches it to the side. There is a sickening crack. It pounds in his ears.

Then, the alpha is dead. His body collapses atop Derek in a grimy heap. And that’s when the real pain starts. He’d killed an alpha, and that meant, despite how much he didn’t want it, he took the mantle of power. When it fires through his veins, the world begins to spin.

Everything goes out of focus. Time stretches and bends and snaps. His vision starts to go black at the edges. Everything hurts and doesn’t in the same moment. He can hear his family’s howls. Can hear his pack coming for him. He passes out before they arrive.

***

Wherever Derek is, it isn’t the trees he calls home. Their scent was soft and subtle. What he smells now is…more. It is strange and foreign and wonderful. Alarming and relaxing in the same moment. He doesn’t want to move. Not that he could. His body didn’t want to listen to him.

It’s not that he can’t move, per say. It’s that he feels no real need to do so. Every part of him, while alert, wasn’t panicked. Wherever this was, he felt at ease. He felt, comfortable. The haziness of it makes him wonder how long he can stay.

His pack must be worried about him. They heard his cries. His howl of pain. They would’ve found the alpha’s body. The one that Derek had killed. He didn’t like to think about it. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to be an alpha.

That was his mother’s role. That was her position. And one day, it would be Laura’s. That was her right as firstborn. That was her inheritance. There couldn’t be two alphas in a pack. Even if they were siblings. The exception being mated pairs.

Derek didn’t have a mate. Didn’t have any plans on getting one either. That was the only way he could have a pack. Was to marry into one. Turning humans wasn’t an option. It would put him, and his family at risk. There was no way he was going to do that.

If he didn’t find a pack, or make one, he’d slowly go insane. Betas grounded an alpha’s power. Keeping them sane and in control. That’s the reason the man had gone feral. His pack was most likely dead. With him being the only survivor.

The fact that he’d been poisoned with wolfsbane didn’t help anything either. He didn’t have a chance at every coming back from that. Derek pitied him. Lamented for him. He’d lost everything, and now, he was dead. There was only the hope of peace.

There are voices near him. Soft, whimsical things that he knows aren’t human. They don’t belong to any wolf either. From the sound, it’s almost like a song. Floating through the air. Whizzing into his ears, making him dream of things other than what he’d lost.

It helps him calm down. To keep him from thinking of things that he didn’t want to ponder over. Strangely enough, he’s no asleep. He knows that much. There’s too much awareness for that. Rather, it’s a halfway state that seems to be between awake and resting.

There really isn’t any thought to wondering why he’s in this unknown state. All he can think about how there’s no pain. He was mauled by an enraged, feral alpha. He’d nearly had his lungs ripped out through his sides. The young wolf should’ve been in agony.

There was nothing. No twinging of healing flesh. Or burning that came when clawed by an alpha. It was almost as if he was never injured to begin with. Derek wondered exactly what was going on. He got an answer when there was a new voice.

This one was louder, angrier. Displeased even. There was a tone of authority to it. Much like that of an alpha. But this wasn’t a wolf. This was something else entirely. He wanted to wake up. He needed to wake up. So, he opened his eyes.

The first thing he sees is light. Everywhere, light. Little flecks of it hung in the air. Like pieces of silver suspended in motion. They moved as he sat up. Politely making sure he didn’t bump into them as he came to see where the voices where coming from.

The first person, against all odds, is Stiles. He is dressed…well, loosely. The robes that he’d worn in the forest covered much more than this. His entire back was exposed, as well as most of his legs. The young Fae was still dripping in platinum chains.

He was as breathtaking as the first time Derek laid eyes on him. The Fae, and the two men with him, hadn’t noticed that he was awake. He intended to keep it that way. While he trusted Stiles, the other two….there was no reason to think that he wasn’t in danger.

The one to his left was…strange. Sun kissed skin. Messy hair. A scent of wet fur and summer heat. He was like Stiles, but not. A Fae, but of a different variety. Derek didn’t know how many there were exactly, but this young man smelled like one of the stranger ones.

The man to his right was human. Or he smelled human anyway. He also smelled of Fae. But not. It was very confusing. Derek wasn’t used to his senses yet. Being an alpha meant that everything came in clearer. That everything was stronger.

He didn’t need to master that to know that the man was dangerous. There was an impressive sword strapped to his back. Smaller than a great-sword, but larger than the blades that most soldiers carried. Derek knew that he’d be in trouble if he drew it.

The three were arguing, but over what, he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t that they were too far away, it was that Derek couldn’t make out the words. Not all of them. This world seemed to distort and twist in ways that made little, if no sense.

He recognized it as the world of Faeries. Time and space and magic and light and dark all followed different rules here. Derek wasn’t a Fae. So, naturally, these rules confused his senses. Part of him wanted to run. The other part knew better.

He’d heard the stories, of people being whisked away to the world of the Fae. Lone, poor individuals. Tantalized by the realms everlasting splendor. There were plenty of stories. None of them ended happily. The Fae’s world ran differently. Time stretched. What seemed like a few days there, turned to years.

There were also the insane rules. Never eat any food. Never drink. Never sleep. Otherwise, the Fae will own you forever. They will have a claim to your life that they’d never relinquish. That they would never surrender. Derek had fallen asleep in this realm. He wondered if he was trapped here now.

“For the last time, he was dying. What would have me do, let him perish from being mauled?”

“You don’t think, you impulsive little child. He is a wolf. A wolf with a pack that will come looking for him. We don’t interfere. We don’t cross. We don’t play games. Your mother taught you better than that.”

The sword armed man’s face was wrought with tension. He smelled of grief now. He smelled of heartbreak. Derek wondered what could’ve made him so sad so quickly. Tears brimmed in Stiles’ eyes. There was something going on here. He just didn’t know what.

“I am not so cruel, as you would have me be.”

“When the others find out, when they learn of what you’ve done, what do you think will happen? You brought in an outsider. They will take license to do the same. Though their motivations will be decidedly less than noble.”

Stiles didn’t have anything to say to that. The normally loquacious Fae, stunned into silence. Derek pitied him. But at the same time, he was grateful. Had it not been for him, he would most likely be dead. He broke the rules, and brought him into the world of the Faeries.

That was a life debt. Something he’d have to pay for the rest of his life. Their family wasn’t as traditional as others. But they did have and hold their honor. He would be bond in service, forever. Even if Stiles didn’t himself know it.

“You can’t tell me that this won’t have fallout. The others….They’ll see it as a means to usurp you. To challenge your right to…”

“If I recall correctly, I never wanted it to begin with. You gave that to me, and I refused. I’ve been refusing. And I always will. There’s nothing to usurp.” Stiles’ tone bordered on angry now.

“You are my son, and I love you. But your actions set an example for everyone else. And no matter how much you hate your position, you cannot escape it.”

Derek wondered exactly how long it would take for them to realize that he was awake. That he’d heard every word of this conversation. That he was aware of the fact that he was the source of their misfortune. And he also wondered, and somewhat dreaded, what they would do with him.

“Pardon me, sir, but our guest is awake, and he’s…anxious.” The sun kissed man spoke for the first time. He sounded even younger than he looked.

The sword armed man spun his head round, glaring daggers at Derek. He instinctively flinched backwards. He didn’t like the heat of the man’s gaze. He stunk of rage and sorrow in the same moment. Derek wondered why.

Stiles is by his side before he can think. Gentle hands inspecting his wounds. They are gone. Not even a scar remaining. He’d expected at least a few. Derek knew what werewolves could and couldn’t heal from. Being attacked by a feral alpha wasn’t one of them.

He should’ve been laid up for weeks, his body slowly stitching itself back together. But, miraculously, he was fully healed. There was no pull or twinge when he moved. There was no pain. Maybe it was because he killed the alpha. Perhaps it was Stiles’ Faerie magic. He didn’t know. He was just grateful to be alive.

“Glad to see you’re awake and kicking, little wolf.”

“No part of me is little.” Derek wasn’t one to make a joke, but he couldn’t help it in this situation.

“You had me worried there for a few days, but you pulled through.”

“A few days!? How long have I been gone?” Derek couldn’t help but panic.

“By your time, a week. I promise, there’s no trickery here. Time works differently in this realm, yes. But it works to your advantage. If I hadn’t brought you here, you would’ve died.”

Derek could see the dark shimmer in Stiles’ eyes. There was some unknown, horrible thing that lay there. A horrid scar, rearing its ugly head. There was a pain, an unspoken tragedy. It was the reason he brought Derek to the realm of the Faeries. It was the reason he had broken the rules.

“Glad to see you’re up and about, but we have matters to attend. Stiles, bring your wolf. The others are waiting.” The sword armed man said nothing further. Walking away into glittering trees.

“Come on, little wolf. Time to meet my maker, as it were. Don’t worry, they won’t harm you.”

Stiles’ smile was false, and hid very real fear. But the Fae couldn’t lie. He would protect Derek. Even if he didn’t give his word, he would do it all the same. The sun kissed man stood behind them, his silence more damning than anything else.

The glittering trees give off a scent that makes Derek oddly calm. Almost sleepy, in a way. Despite the fact that he’d healed and slept for at least a week. Maybe it was the strange magic of this place. Maybe it was just his imagination.

When they enter the clearing, three dozen eyes turn towards him. The Fae came in all manner of forms. All of them beautiful. But their eyes spoke a volume that made his skin crawl. He was an outsider. He was not welcome. No matter their white toothed smiles.

The sword armed man is seated on an elaborate throne. Its wood twisted and bent, almost as if it grew from the earth like a tree. There were six more, nearly identical to it. The only real difference was the foliage that grew from them.

The others on the thrones were not smiling. Rather, their faces were blank and unfeeling. Derek didn’t know whether he should be nervous or not. So far, his welcome had been less than warm. Now, standing before all of these Fae, he felt even more out of place.

Stiles takes the empty seat next to his father. Affirming Derek’s suspicion that he was someone of station. He certainly had an air about him. A way that he was that didn’t make sense until now. At the very least, he had one person on his side.

“He’s handsome. I can see why you whisked him away.” The comment comes from a redheaded young woman as pale as moonlight.

“I didn’t ‘whisk’ anything. He was dying, and I saved him. He’s not a pet, Lydia.” The redheaded woman just smiles.

“Regardless, you brought an outsider into our realm. As I recall, it was you who proposed that our, what was it, ‘flittering ways’, be put to a stop?” The question is asked in malice.

Derek can see that both Stiles and his father dislike the man who spoke. Their faces are pinched in a bad way. There a thousand curses lingering on their tongues. But they are not in the place to say them. Less they damage themselves further.

“The wolf may have been dying, but that is of no concern. You wanted us to abstain from interfering from the mortal realm. Then you go and take a wolf from his pack. Possibly inciting war. So please, do tell, how can you condemn us for having a little fun?”

Stiles gripped his throne. Knuckles white and damn near on the verge of splitting open. His father’s hand was on his sword. The sun kissed man’s eyes shone dangerously. Whoever this man was, he was not well liked. At all.

Up until now, Derek had been silent. He didn’t feel welcome here. And didn’t want to cause any more trouble than what was already here. But then, he had an idea. It was a risky one, but it was an idea. One that could potentially save Stiles and his father. And keep this whole mess from exploding out of control.

“Stiles was indebted to me. That’s why he broke your rules and brought me here.” His words snatch the attention of everyone. Including the man who was speaking against Stiles.

“Indebted, to a mutt? What an atrocious suggestion.”

“Stiles had wandered into our woods, not knowing the territory was occupied. He, by definition, trespassed. I had every right to call my pack, and retaliate. Instead, I welcomed him. And let him appreciate our forest.”

The other Fae present look towards Stiles. Seeking the truth in what Derek had said. He nodded his head, siding with the alpha’s words. The man who’d been speaking against him turned a rather vivid shade of red.

“If so, then that debt is paid. The pin on your tunic is proof of that.”

“Stiles didn’t give me the pin because of the welcome. He gave me the pin because I had conversation with him. His words, not mine.” Derek stood a little taller.

“He’s right. The pin was a parting gift. Derek was kind enough to speak with me, not regarding the nature of my presence. He gave me meat and bread as repayment. Even still I was in his debt as I left.”

“Even still, we are at risk of his pack waging war against us. Your debt may be paid to him, but how do you plan to rectify the slight against his alpha?”

The man was determined to find something, any of kind of fault that he could exploit. Stiles had saved him at personal cost, risking his own neck. Derek wasn’t about to allow him to do so. He would ensure that being saved wouldn’t go to waste.

“My alpha will be fine once I return home safely. She will not take any hostile action.”

“You forget, mutt. You’ve slept in our realm, eaten our food, taken our precious time. As much as I despise the idea of war with your filth, I like letting you leave freely even less.”

The sword armed man stood. Eyes alight with smoldering rage. He drew his sword. Pointing it at the man’s throat. Drawing a single drop of blood. Daring him to say something, anything else. Derek had little doubt that he’d end the man’s life.

“You forget your station. My son, ill-advised as his actions were, saved a life to pay a debt. And you, you petty creature, would be insolent enough to sully that honor. I will send you to god, if he’d have your mutilated corpse.”

Derek swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He didn’t desire violence. He didn’t want anyone dead. He just wanted to make sure Stiles and his father were safe. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be back with his pack.

The tension is resolved when the sun kissed man steps forward. His hands find the other’s sword. Slowly lowering it away, preventing the man’s death. His anger was still there, but it was lessened now. Far away from murdering a man. Derek was grateful.

“The wolf will return to his family, free of any petty debt that you wish to shackle him with. And you will not speak on the matter again. If you wish to do so, you will do it with a sword in your hand, and blood in your mouth.”

Derek knew the matter was settled. Stiles rose from his throne, ignoring the man that was determined to see his downfall. The wolf followed the Fae away from the gathering, the sun kissed man shortly behind them. He was going home. He just didn’t know what awaited him.

***

Derek had never been a fan of horses. The creatures were ill-tempered beasts at the best of times. No creature desired anything or anyone to ride on their backs. They were good for labor, plowing fields and hauling crops. Riding, he wasn’t a fan of.

Fae horses were even worse. They were noble, proud creatures. He knew that from a single glance. Derek wasn’t a Fae. He wasn’t of this realm, and therefore, not the best person to ride one. Stiles laughed when the beast buckled, before settling it down.

The sun kissed man, who he learned was Scott, didn’t have any issue with the beast. In fact, the two were as thick as thieves. Derek envied him for it. As a werewolf, other animals, at the best of times, were wary of him. He was a predator after all.

Now, as an alpha, that instinctual fear was even worse. There was a part of him that lamented that fact. He was now alone. He couldn’t feel his pack because he was in the Faerie realm. That much, he knew. But once he got back to his own world….

The connection that he had with his family, with his pack, would be gone. Gone forever. He’d never feel them again. Never share that connection again. It took everything he had not to cry. The pack he’d had all his life, the pack he’d grown up with…They were gone.

Even if they were able to make things work…Even if they were able to find some way to live together…Derek would never truly be a part of that ever again. He would be alone. Until he turned someone. But he could never do that.

The bite was a gift, yes. But gifts could be refused. Could be discarded. How would he choose the right human? How would he know who was the perfect match? How would he know that the human wouldn’t turn against him?

These where all questions that he needed answered. There were, of course, other options. Rouge betas who’d disbanded from their packs because they displeased with their alphas. Omegas that had nowhere else to go. The problem was, these kinds of things were rare.

An alpha needed betas. Needed their power and connection so that his own wouldn’t rage out of control. If he didn’t find something soon, he’d go mad. And be no better off than the feral alpha he had killed. Now that his thoughts were free, he couldn’t think of anything else.

Some part of Derek lamented the man. He’d lost everything. His pack. His family. All that made him human. Reduced to a mindless animal. Nothing else. Another part new that his death was a mercy. It was either that, or slowly rotting from wolfsbane poisoning.

He’d never experienced it himself, but he knew what could and did happen. The flower, that little purple bud, was toxic and corrosive to nearly all shifters. It broke the body down, streaming black tar out of every orifice. He hated it.

Hated that such a thing existed. That humans were cruel enough to use it, knowing full and well the death that awaited a wolf afflicted with it. Derek didn’t dislike humans. But he never had any real reason to feel trusting of them either.

That’s how he was raised. That’s what his parents had taught him. That was one of the most important lessons that’d been drilled into him. Humans always feared what they didn’t understand. Sometimes, they hated it. Hated it with every ounce of their being.

He wondered if that’s how his family would react to him. When he came home an alpha. He thought of his sisters. Of Laura, and how the alpha mantle would be passed to her, now stolen. He wondered if she thought that he would’ve tried to usurp her position.

He thought of Cora, his baby sister. Unable to every feel their connection ever again. Unable to be pack. Unless she chose to abandon the connection with their pack. With their family for Derek. A beta could not have two alphas. The exception being mated pairs.

He’d lost the chance to have a pack the moment he killed the alpha. He hoped, against everything against him, that home would still welcome him. That he would have a place to sleep. A table to dine at. That, if he couldn’t have a pack, that he could have a family.

“You’re brooding, little wolf.” Stiles had ridden his steed to pace alongside Derek. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed.

“I don’t brood, little Fae.” Stiles laughed. It was a beautiful sound. Like a breeze sweeping over a field.

“You seem despondent for a man that managed to escape death.”

“I don’t know what awaits for me when I return home. A pack cannot have two alphas. That’s a fundamental rule.”

The Fae seemed to ponder what Derek had said. Wordlessly contemplating the ramifications of Derek returning alive. That he would not longer have a place in the pack that he’d grown up in. that his family would see a stranger. That they might just see a monster.

“How did you like the world of the Faeries?” The question caught him off guard.

“It was hostile, at the best of times. I felt most of the things there wanted to kill me. Why do you ask?”

“Well, if your family won’t take you back, you can always come live with us.”

The implication didn’t make any sense. The world of the Faeries….It was vastly different to that of the mortal one. Derek could never leave, and if he could, days there could turn to weeks here. Everything he knew…Everything he grew up with…Everyone he grew up with, gone.

“Your kin didn’t seem too keen on my staying. What makes you think that they’d accept me now?”

“That’s the trick. I brought you here, without your consent. But a mortal that wishes to stay in the world of the Faeries…That’s the loophole. That’s where they can’t rebuke you’re living there.”

“For how long?” Derek knew the Fae lived long lives. That mortal years seemed to crawl by for them.

“As long as you desire it. I’m offering, so you wouldn’t be a prisoner.”

“No, but your father might just wring your neck, as well as mine for letting you do such an insane thing.” Scott didn’t seem too excited about the idea.

“Hush, it’s a perfectly sound idea. Kidnapping someone is one thing. Inviting them, and their own consent is another. Derek would have a life here.”

“But no pack. An alpha must have a pack. I can’t survive without one.” It was an unavoidable truth. He could not live as an alpha without betas. His wolf would grow out of control and consume him.

“Hmmm…Perhaps I could find a few desperate humans. I use my Fae charms to wile them away, and you, little wolf, save the day.”

“The fact that you suggested such a thing proves how stupid an idea this really is.”

Scott shook his head in derision. Trying his best not to smack Stiles upside the head. Derek rather liked him. He felt…well…Like a wolf. If a strange, Fae version of it. Derek knew that, in all the realms of Fae, there were many kinds.

Some of the forests, like Stiles. But there were others. Sirens of the water. Nymphs of the sky. And the more ancient ones. Of the very earth. He had wanted to ask. But he didn’t want to be rude about it. These things were private.

Scott felt more, in a way, bestial. He appeared, for all intents and purposes, human. But Derek knew there was power thrumming through his sun kissed skin. There was a second shape he had. Another form. He wondered if Stiles had the same.

After what seemed like an eternity of riding, they finally cleared the trees. There was a single moment of darkness. A single instant where all light faded. Then, Derek could smell home. The trees he’d known his entire life, in all their glory. He was back.

Even though he knew what awaited him…Even though he knew he might very lose his family…He howled. He howled and he did so loudly. Not even thinking of the humans in town. The sound of it shook leaves from the trees. A call to his family. A call to his pack.

It didn’t take them long. Minutes actually. He could feel their footsteps pounding across the forest floor. Can hear the drumming of their panicked heartbeats. Being an alpha really did change things. He just hoped it didn’t change them too much.

His mother is the first to break through the tree line. Eyes red, searching, frantically, for the sight of Derek. He dismounts his horse, disturbing the beast. But he does not care. He all but leaps from it. All to get to his mother. His alpha.

Only, she isn’t his alpha anymore. Because as he gets closer, she growls. A low, horrid thing that serves as a warning. It is brief, but the damage is done. Derek is no longer a part of the pack. His own mother’s reaction said that well enough.

Only, she stops. Stands away from her defensive stance. And she looks. As if to make sure that it’s really him. Then, she’s hugging him. Embracing him. As if nothing was wrong. When everything was. He didn’t care. He was home.

The others follow shortly. Unable to even register that Derek was an alpha. Such was their desperation. Such was the loneliness. Such was their grief. Such was their joy. He was home. With his pack. With his family. Everything was alright. Until it wasn’t.

When the momentous energy of his return had subsided, the pack noticed the Fae that had accompanied him. Which, after everything that had happened, all that they’d been through, garnered an expected. Which was, much to Derek’s dismay, decidedly hostile.

His mother was the first to move. Half shifted, ready to strike. Scott, however, was quicker on the draw. He was on the ground, animal form proudly displayed before any of them could think. He was massive. He stood taller than a horse. Fur shuffling about. Silvery black and as terrifying as a nightmare. He was beautiful.

His mother, though now still, did not stop growling. He wondered who could really win this fight. Talia was an alpha, and a damn powerful one. But Scott was a Fae, and nearly four times her size. Derek knew that, whatever the case, it would end badly.

Things were not helped by Stiles. The Fae was smiling, ear to ear. For what reason, Derek didn’t know. Hopefully, it was for something good. And not because his best friend was about to rip into Derek’s mother. That, at this point, is the one thing he wanted to avoid.

“Greetings, Alpha.” The Fae, surprisingly, bowed his head. A customary sign of respect when greeting the alpha of a pack. Derek didn’t know how he knew that.

“You took my son. That demands blood.”

“Had I not taken your son, his blood would’ve stained the forest. But seeing as I did, and brought him back, I fail to see what blood you desire.”

Talia looked at the two Fae with murder in her eyes. But she knew they could not lie. That was their curse, and their weakness. Derek had been on the brink of death. Even with taking the mantle of alpha. He would’ve bleed to death before he could’ve healed.

Stiles had taken him to the world of the Faeries. Had used their magic and healed him where he otherwise would’ve died. But she was angry. A Fae had taken her pup, and she was right to be angry. Stiles was clever and mischievous. But he was also kind. His mother had yet to accept it.

Surprisingly, it was Peter who confronted the pair next. Scott let a growl rumble low in his chest. a clear warning to back off. Stiles raised a pale hand, silencing his friend. Derek could smell no ill intent from his uncle. Or even anger. But he knew the man well, and he knew that this could go very wrong, very quickly.

“Speak clearly, or I’ll have that rotten tongue of yours as a trophy.”

“Derek was dying. Attacked by a wounded, feral alpha. He won, but was lethally wounded. I brought him back to our world. Where I healed him. At a great personal risk, if that’s a consolation.” Stiles was no longer smiling.

“And what risk, per say, was involved for you, little Faerie?”

“Wolves are not well liked by many of the Fae. Less so when they’re brought into our borders. Even less so when Fae magic is used to heal them.”

Peter looked towards Derek, trying to ascertain whether or not Stiles was telling the truth. The newly minted alpha had fought a feral alpha. He had barely won. And Stiles had taken him to the Fae world to heal. And returned him, without incident. That was the truth. That being said, his pack was still angry.

“Then why return him? Your kind is all about petty debts and repayment. What did Derek do that earned his release from your world?”

“He smiled.” Stiles was….not helping.

“A smile, that’s it. A smile. You expect us to believe….

“I don’t care what you believe. I returned your nephew. Alive and well. Yet you seem determined to find a reason that we must have conflict. If that be the case, I shall let you have it. And you, wolf, will learn the breadth of the misery the Fae can bring about.”

Stiles had discarded his usual charm and wit. Now, he was angry. The Fae, well, certain Fae, were easily offended. And repaid offense in spades. Stiles had been nothing but diplomatic, as well as courteous. He had saved Derek, and returned him. Peter had spat on that with extreme prejudice.

Derek was wary of what could happen next. Stiles was…He didn’t know much about him. He enjoyed the Fae, that was certain. But that was one side that he had seen. Now, the young man was angry, and thrumming with magic. He didn’t want any fighting. He wanted to go home.

It was Laura that broke the tension. She pushed past her uncle, shoving the man behind her. She was angry. His sister’s scent was acrid and burned Derek’s nose worse than any fire ever could. He actually recoiled at it.

Scott stood in front of her. Eyes glaring an alarming orange. His sister flashed her own, daring the Fae to try and stand in her way. Scott, very wisely, did not. She stood eye level with Stiles’ horse. Body wrought and ready to fight. Derek could not move.

“You saved my brother and brought him back.”

“Yes, I thought that I made that clear by now.” Stiles was exhausted.

“And you have no intention of returning. Trying to claim some debt that he, or our pack owes you.”

“I make no promises to never return. But I will promise this. I, from this day until the last day, will never demand repayment from Derek, or any of you.”

“Good. Now, get the hell off our land.” Laura spat.

Stiles took the hint. But before he left, he smiled that smile at Derek. His real smile. Not his Fae one. Not the one that he wore when he was being coy, or mischievous. The alpha felt his wolf rumble in pleasure. Why, he didn’t know. He just knew that he enjoyed it. Even if his pack was angrier than a fire dragon.

***

It had been a week since Derek had returned home. Things were not better. As he expected, a pack with two alphas wasn’t possible. But they were trying to make it work. It was an ongoing effort. One that was slowly driving him into madness.

He and his mother had yet to come into conflict. In fact, they were getting along rather well. It was the rest of the pack that was the issue. Namely, his uncle. Peter, being the second born, was never meant to be an alpha.

Had he been human, perhaps. But wolves didn’t care about the ideological differences between men and women. The first born was always raised to be alpha. That’s how it had been. Peter had felt jaded by that, and never really respected his position. Even as second.

With Derek now being an alpha, he held higher rank than his uncle. Which he was greatly displeased by. Peter barely tolerated Talia being alpha. And she was his sister. Derek having authority over him sent the beta on edge. Which, in turn, affected the whole pack.

As a result, Derek kept his distance from everyone. Even his sisters. Laura hadn’t said more than a handful since he’d come home. He couldn’t tell if it was in anger or not. Either way, he felt lonelier than he had in a while.

Cora, the stonewall that she was, still embraced him when opportunity arose. It was a small comfort. His father was the most unaffected. He treated Derek the same as he always had. It was the only reason he hadn’t fallen over the edge. But the limit was fast approaching.

An alpha needed betas. An alpha needed a pack. He had none, his connections had been severed the moment he killed the wolf. And now, he was teetering on the brink. But there was no good option here. Humans were fearful, ignorant creatures. He couldn’t just ask them if they wanted the bite.

That would draw attention and bring hunters to their land. Endangering them all. They were not merciful. And usually made examples of the packs they slaughtered. Derek would rather die than bring that kind of fate to his family.

He spent most of his days in the trees. Part of him felt comfort there. As his wolf grew stronger and wilder, nature was more welcoming. It calmed that growing feral side. Made it easier to think and to be. It wouldn’t be long before this was his home. And his family would have to kill him.

Another part of him hoped for Stiles. The young Fae had offered him a place in the world of the Faeries. Derek had neglected to tell his family of it. They would’ve been enraged. Which would’ve only served to make things worse. So, he kept silent.

He had considered it. Time moved in different and strange ways in the world of the Faeries. He may have been able to have more time. More days and months and years before the wolf took over completely. It was a thought. And a thought it remained.

Even as the nights grew longer, he stayed amongst the trees. Sleeping comfortably in the open. His wolf rumbling low in his chest. Softly begging for pack. For the feel of a beta. Derek ignored it. He pushed it down and thought of other things.

It would stop working soon enough. He wondered who would be the one to kill him. Most likely, his mother. That way, what happened to him wouldn’t happen to anyone else. His heart broke at the thought. His mother being forced to kill her only son. It would destroy her.

Just as his melancholy threatened to consume him, he heard the crashing of footsteps. And the scent of fear. Pungently tart, a thrilling thing to the wolf. Had it been prey. But this was no stag or boar. It was a human. And now that he focused on it, he could smell blood.

Metallic and horrid. There was pain under laying it. The man was injured. Derek moved before he could even think. Moving towards the source of it. Weaving in between great oaks. Eyes guiding him through the darkness of the night.

He finds the man stumbling through the dark. Desperately trying to keep his footing. He could see why. The man’s leg was slashed fiercely. A horrid matt of blood already dried against his trousers. Derek didn’t need to be a wise man to figure it out. He’d been attacked.

He catches the nameless man as he starts to fall. His body is rigid and cold. Heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. How he managed to make it this far into the woods remained unknown. Probably due to the sheer amount of fear. There was a certain part of him that admired that.

The healers in town could help. But he’d run away from that direction. Which meant his attacker had been in pursuit. Which meant that the town wasn’t safe. There wasn’t much else he could do. Save for the unthinkable. Which was to take him home.

The man was unconscious. And had no say in the matter. It was up to Derek to make the choice. So, he did. Running with an injured human may have been a problem when he was a beta. Now that he was an alpha, the strength that came with it erased the problem.

His sisters are the first to greet him. He hadn’t howled for fear of the man’s attacker hearing it. But they knew regardless. There was the scent of blood on the wind. Human blood. The fact that the entire pack hadn’t met him was something of a shock.

Peter follows behind Laura, taking the young man from Derek. Laying him gently down on the ground. He was still unconscious. Which wasn’t the best of signs. They couldn’t treat him here. Not with what they had. But at the very least, they could keep him safe from whoever had assaulted him.

“Well, that’s certainly something.”

“Thank you, Peter. The commentary is so helpful.” Derek was exasperated. And a little on edge. His fangs were stinging in his gums.

“Well, nephew, what now? You dragged the poor fellow all the way here. What do you plan to do with him?”

Honestly, Derek hadn’t even though that far ahead of anything. Not really. He was working on instinct. His wolf had reacted to the smell of blood and fear. The man, barely that, had been running for his life. The alpha had taken him on a base reaction. Wanting to keep him safe.

He couldn’t really explain why. Just that it felt like the right thing to do. That it was the best option he had. Which, as it turned out, wasn’t an option to begin with. There was no way to heal him. Save for the bite. But the man wasn’t able to consent. And even he was…

Derek imagined the reaction that he’d get when the man learned he’d been saved by a werewolf. That he was currently surrounded by them. That he was in the middle of the woods. Away from everything that he’d ever known. And that no one could come and rescue him.

Only, there was someone who did. The green smell that Derek had come to know filled the air. Singing and dancing as all of his family came to alert. They knew who it was before he appeared. They knew who had come. Stiles.

“I was wondering where he’d gone off to. But this wasn’t what I was expecting.” The Fae looked down at the young man with worry in his eyes. As well as anger.

“You know him?” Derek didn’t think that Stiles was the type to keep tabs on mortals. At least, not humans.

“He’s the tanner’s son. Horrid man, and a wretched drunk. But this one turned out alright. Leaves me a bowl of cream from time to time. A little bread too. I like him.”

“Did you know? That his father would…”

“The man was belligerent and rude, yes. But he’d never laid a hand on the boy. Until now.” There was a dark thing swarming in the back of the Fae’s eyes. An unknowable thing. A thing Derek didn’t want to see.

To offend a Fae was dangerous. To anger one…Derek had heard the stories just like everyone else. Had heard of what they could and would do. He wondered just what Stiles had planned for the tanner. And how far the man could run before losing.

“I can’t help him. My magic is muted in this realm. But I cannot take him with me either. There are too many eyes watching. Too many things lurking in the shadows.”

“Watching?” Peter had inched away from the Fae. Wary of his presence.

“As I said, many Fae were displeased with my brining Derek to our realm. I can’t bring another outsider in. Not this soon. It will have….unpleasant consequences.”

Then the young man was doomed. Derek could feel him getting even colder. His heart was slowing. The bleeding had stopped, yes, but he was by no means out of danger. There wasn’t much they could do. Save for turn him. Which would doom everyone else in turn.

“Do what you can, make it to where he is awake. I can offer him the bite. And if not…..”

“Good idea, little wolf. I think he’d rather life than anything else.”

Stiles moved his hand over the young man’s leg. Whispering in that unknown language. The Fae language. It was like wind through the trees. Or snow falling on a mountain. Or the first drop of rain on an open sea. It was strange and frightening and beautiful.

Several minutes passed. The man’s color did not improve. But his heart was slightly stronger. A little faster. A little better. His eyes fluttered. Moving about. His mind was trying to wake up. Stiles was helping. But Derek could tell that he was reaching his limit.

When it seemed like the Fae could push himself no more, the young man’s eyes flew open. He sucked in a violent breath. Jolting himself back to the knowing world in a flurry of motion. Limbs flailing about like someone had thrown him into an icy river. He was alive for now.

Stiles smiled at the man. Exhausted, but pleased that he’d, at the very least, staved off death for the time being. Whatever magic he’d used had done the trick. And the young man had a few more hours of life. But now he had a decision to make. Derek could only hope that it wouldn’t go wrong.

“Where am I?” His voice was weak and somewhat broken.

“In the woods, little one. You did a good job of running. These are friends of mine.”

“You’re the Fae. The one that visits the tannery.”

“I appreciate the offerings. More than most would consider. I’ve repaid that kindness. But you’re not out of danger. You’ve lost too much blood. From your father, I assume.”

The young man’s face went even paler. The memory of his attack coming to the forefront. Panic seeped back into his scent. He was trembling now. And it wasn’t from the pain. Derek knew that, even if he hadn’t been attacked, sooner or later, he would’ve run.

“This is my friend, Derek. He can help you, but it’s your choice to make. And you must choose wisely.”

The young man turned towards the wolf. Fearful eyes quivering as he realized that he was not surrounded by humans. There was no further panic. Only a sense of awareness. Only a sense that things were…unusual.

“You’re what the old stories say, aren’t you? Werewolves.”

“Yes.” There wasn’t any use in lying. The young man had a choice. He needed to know.

“Will it hurt?”

“The bite, yes. But being a wolf is what the stories say it is. It’s about pack. It’s about family. You’ll have to learn control. But it will save you, if it works. And there’s always the chance that it won’t. Though, given all the options. It’s the best you’ve got.”

This didn’t seem to appease the young man. But Derek had hoped that he’d realize that there wasn’t any other way he was going to live. Stiles’ magic was a temporary fix. And that, if he decided to do so, he would die as a man.

“I’ll never have to see him again? I’ll never have to go back?”

“You can make that choice when the time comes. But it would be safer for you to live with us. Until you adjust to the change.”

Derek could see relief in his eyes. The fear faded, and a sense of hope replaced it. There was a risk, yes. But he could live without ever having to see the man that had abused him for years. He could live free of that worry. And Derek wanted to give it to him.

“My name’s Isaac, if you must know. And I think I’ll accept your offer. I don’t want to die”

Derek nodded once. Affirming the young man’s choice. He took his arm, letting his eyes bleed to red. Isaac inhaled sharply at the sight. But he was not afraid. Derek bit down cleanly. As gently as he could. To his credit, Isaac only flinched a little.

***

Things were going well with Isaac. The newly turned wolf was adjusting well to life with the pack. Though his temper could use some work. But that was to be expected with a newly turned wolf. Derek had already prepared for the mood swings.

There was a lot to do, and a lot to consider. One of the first things, was Isaac had known Stiles. Well, at the very least, he left him gifts. Which meant that Stiles had been going to town as well as the forest. Which wasn’t exactly a problem. But it did raise certain questions.

The Fae, were, capricious and curious by their nature. There were plenty of stories of their walks in the mortal world. But they didn’t do it often. They didn’t flitter about for all that long. There was always some underlying reason. There was always a purpose.

Perhaps Stiles could sense that Isaac was in trouble. That he needed help. That he needed a friend. Isaac had left him gifts, and the Fae were never pleased to be in someone’s debt. Ever. But Stiles was not malicious. He was just intent.

Derek hadn’t asked Isaac about it. For the most part it wasn’t going to be a problem. At least, to Derek. His family still wasn’t exactly happy with Stiles’ presence. They were distrusting, but tolerated him regardless. They owed him for saving Derek. They just weren’t happy about it.

Isaac hadn’t mentioned it, and Derek wasn’t pushing it. Ever since Stiles had left, he hadn’t been back. At least, no one had seen him. And his scent was nowhere in the forest. Perhaps he was making sure his fellow Fae weren’t trailing him. For whatever reason.

Derek was more focused on the adjustment of his new beta. Isaac hadn’t said anything about his attack. Hadn’t sought revenge or a desire for violence. For a newly turned wolf, he was surprisingly level headed. Which was a good thing.

Towards the end of the first month, just before the pup’s first full moon. There was only a slight amount of concern. So far, no one from town had come seeking Isaac. Either they didn’t know, or they simply didn’t care. At this point, it was irrelevant. He was here. And he was pack.

When the day ended, and the curtain of night fell, all was calm. It was cool, clear sky. With the barest hint of a breeze. The full glory of the stars for all to see. It was the perfect kind of night for Isaac’s first full moon.

He held back at first. His human instincts trying desperately to reject the shift. To deny the wolf. Derek encouraged him to just let go. To feel it. To let the power run free. It was the most beautiful thing he’d witnessed in a long time.

Isaac was unhinged as he ran. Rampant with wild, almost rabid energy. But he was not out of control. He held his ground and ran and ran and ran. Teetering the edge between wolf and man. Derek couldn’t have been more proud.

His beta had adapted remarkably well. And so far, the pack had accepted him into the fold. The full moon above them, things couldn’t have been better. He wondered how long it would last. Given the nature of things, and how much had happened. He wondered.

The answer came, three days later. Now that he was an alpha, Derek had far better senses than when he was a beta. Which meant catching the scent was easy enough. The idiot hadn’t even thought to stay upwind. He was human, and he had been drinking. He knew the man before he saw him.

Isaac’s father was aged and wrinkled for a man of his profession. Tanner’s weren’t known for their easy labor. It was horrid, smelly, back breaking work. Perhaps that’s why he drank so much. Perhaps that’s why he hurt his own son. Derek didn’t know. Derek didn’t care.

He’s able to maintain his own footing. Which meant that he wasn’t entirely drunk, yet. That didn’t meant that this was going to be pleasant. The man had a temper. And it was worse when he had been drinking. Derek’s main priority now, was keeping Isaac safe.

The full moon may have gone well, but that didn’t mean his beta could handle confronting his father. Derek wasn’t going to risk it. That, and no human had been out here in years. Apart from Deaton. Their identity as werewolves was their greatest secret, and if it was revealed, the hunters would come.

“You’re trespassing.” Unlike the tone he used with Stiles, there was no pacifism. He was deadly serious, and wanted this man off his land.

“Give me back my son. The blacksmith saw him stumbling his way through the woods.”

Derek had to repress his wolf. The man had no claim to Isaac. Not after what he’d done. Not after nearly killing him. He was pack, and pack took care of each other. If needed, he’d remove the man by force. There was plenty of evidence.

The wound had been so severe, even the bite hadn’t managed to prevent it from scarring. That, and Isaac was here of his own free will. Derek wouldn’t surrender him. He’d go against the town guards if he had to. And at this point, that was a very real possibility.

“Isaac came to us of his own free will. Covered in blood, at that. From the blade you used to cut him.”

The man’s scent turned sour with anger. Perhaps he disliked the truth being thrown into his face. Perhaps he disliked that Derek thought so little of him. Perhaps he was now realizing what a bastard he really was. It didn’t matter.

“You can leave, or I can break your legs and drag your worthless hide back to town.”

“Don’t threaten me, boy.”

“This boy is about to make good on his threat, you wretched drunk.” Derek felt his wolf’s hackles raise. He was ready for a fight.

It was at this moment that Talia and Peter joined them. As well as his father. With one person confronting him, Isaac’s father felt confident. Even if he didn’t know that he was facing an alpha werewolf. Now, with another three, Derek could hear the man’s heartbeat pick up. He was afraid.

“I believe my son has asked you to leave. You’re neither deaf, nor stunted, so I know you heard him. I suggest you listen. Because I am decidedly less kind.” Derek’s father was not a violent man. But he, like any wolf, disliked intruders on their land.

He had seen it only once. A rival alpha had descended from a northern territory. He was a large man. Confident in his ability to rule both his territory and his pack. He thought he deserved the Hale lands as well. Derek’s father eviscerated the man, leaving him nearly dead.

The alpha’s betas dragged his near corpse out of their woods, and there were no more challengers from that point on. Derek had little doubt that his father would break this man’s legs and make him crawl back to town. He was threatening his family, and no wolf, beta or alpha, would stand for that.

“You kidnapped my boy. I figure the town council wouldn’t take kindly to hearing that.”

“I take that the town council would take even less to the fact that you nearly murdered him. Isaac came stumbling upon our house. Covered in blood, and only lived by the good graces of the heavens. You’re a drunk, and a liar. As well as a piss poor excuse of a father. Now, get off our land.”

Derek could smell the fear coming off the man now. It was pungent and burned his nose. He felt his wolf rumble. The man smelt like prey. And he was more than eager to rip a few pieces from him. Well, more than a few. But he didn’t get the chance. Because there was the smell of green on the wind.

Thought, it was different than the last few times. It was…harsher. Tainted with something sharp and grotesque. It made Derek flinch back. It made all the pack flinch back. A Fae was here. And they were not happy. The alpha didn’t even need to guess who it was.

Stiles appeared from the trees. Looking anything but human. Silver robes fluttering across the forest floor. The same platinum and gold chains dangling from his shoulders and back. He was beautiful. As well as dangerous. Isaac’s father hadn’t noticed yet. When he did, the man pissed himself.

The Fae smiled viciously. There was a certain kind of violence in it. Straight edged, and full of teeth. No matter how powerful any alpha was, no matter how powerful any pack was, they were nothing compared to this. Stiles was infuriated.

“A beast I see, wandering through the green. Stupor filled and senseless as can be. I banish thee, henceforth and for all. May you never know the joyous end of winter’s call.”

The man’s eyes glazed over. Going to a place that no other could follow. He turned round. Walking back the way he came. Saying nothing as his soft footsteps brought him deeper into the trees. The magic that Stiles had used was simple, yet powerful.

“That was unpleasant. Don’t worry, I haven’t killed him. He’ll just wander around for a while.” Stiles smiled that smile. The one that let Derek know, above all else, he was a Fae.

He retreated back into the density of the trees. Seemingly done with his purpose here. Derek didn’t have time to say hello. As much as he would’ve liked to follow, there were more pressing matters. Namely, that Isaac’s father had come searching for him.

Others might follow. With swords and crossbows. Derek didn’t like the idea of fighting humans. Other werewolves was one thing. Rival alphas and rogue omegas. But humans outnumbered them by a vast margin. And he didn’t want to see his family hurt.

Deaton had placed wardings in the trees around their home. No one with malicious intent could approach. The house was guarded against fire and smoke. As well as water. But there was no spell to protect from the thrust of an arrow.

Isaac was inside, shivering when they returned. Eyes glaring beta gold. Fangs biting into his lip. The acrid scent of his anger permeated the house. He had heard his father. Heard that awful man’s voice. And was brought back to a place that he had hoped to leave behind.

Derek could never imagine it. The way the man had treated his son. He’d been loved and cared for his entire life. His parents had never raised a hand to him or any of his siblings. So to witness another do it, even if they were human, made his stomach turn.

They don’t really do much for the rest of the day. Even if Isaac was Derek’s beta, they relax, making sure he was comfortable. Ensuring that he got rest. Away from the trauma of his accursed father. The betas all pile into the den. Right by the hearth. Warm and content. It was the best sleep Derek had in recent memory.

***

The next three days passed in relative peace. Derek, for a moment, worried whether Isaac’s father would return. This time, with more humans in tow. And along with them, hunters. But his fears were unfounded. As nothing seemed to come of it. That was to say, nothing happened. Until it did.

Like when Derek discovered Isaac, there was a scent on the wind. Only this time, it wasn’t blood. It was fear. Fear and sickness. He’d been in the woods, foraging and checking his fish traps as he always did. When the scent reaches him, he doesn’t hesitate.

There’s no sign of shifters in the trees. And he can’t sense a large number of humans nearby. So, this time, he calls for the pack. As it turned out, he didn’t need them. The threat was different than what he thought. It was a girl.

She was young. Maybe Isaac’s age. If a little less. Stunning blonde hair, like woven gold. Alabaster skin. Beautiful. Beautiful and dying. Derek could smell the sickness on her. And he knew that she was near death. It was practically on her doorstep.

He reaches her as she collapses. Violently shaking. Her entire body is wracked with painful tremors. He’d heard of this before. The fits. A strange disease that had no known cause or cure. Less enlightened people, the most ignorant of people, called it witchery. Possession. All manner of things that would give them cause to be hateful.

He stays with her as she settles. The worst of it over. Cora and Isaac arrive just as she loses consciousness. Derek still has her steady. There’s a look on his beta’s face as he gets closer. He knows this girl. And it was more than a passing acquaintance.

“She’s from town. Her name is Erica, one of the miller’s daughters.” Derek knew the man. He took even the poorest quality grain and made into the finest flour. He was also notorious for having twelve daughters and one son. Quite the oddity.

“Now the question is, what’s she doing way out here? What was she running from?”

Erica had only a small satchel. Which was filled with a water skin, and some dried fruits and cheeses. As well as some smoked meats. Not something for a long journey. But more than she’d need if she was out foraging for the day.

She was going somewhere. Somewhere away from town. The reason, unknown. Perhaps it had to do with her illness. There were no doctors that could treat it. But perhaps there were witches. Other magic users with less conventional methods. Derek didn’t know.

“For now, we should take her back to the house. She’ll be awake soon enough.” Isaac’s eyes were urgent. And Derek, ignoring that urgency agreed with him. They needed to get Erica somewhere safe and out of view from potentially prying eyes.

When they get back to the house, Peter is there. Eyes curious and full of things that Derek doesn’t want to see in his uncle. Talia looks more concerned that she ever has. And Laura just sighs dismissively. Derek had brought home yet another stray human.

“This is becoming too much. Isaac drew enough attention, now this.” His mother smelled of anxiety. Derek whined in his throat.

“I couldn’t leave her.” It was the truth. Ever since becoming an alpha, Derek’s protective drives had magnified…considerably. He still wasn’t entirely used to it as of yet.

“Bring the poor thing inside. Cora, Laura, would you mind bathing her and finding some clean clothes.

Derek handed the girl over, albeit hesitantly. Isaac stood next to him. Eyes quivering with unrestrained concern. There was yet another human in their home. Hopefully, this time, it wouldn’t lead to a disgruntled parent showing up at their doorstep.

The rest of the day has an oddly somber note to it. Derek hovered around the den, oddly protective of the human girl he’d brought into their home. He hadn’t even offered to turn her, but the idea lingered in the back of his mind. She was ill, and humans with this kind of affliction did not live long lives.

The bite wouldn’t cure her ailment. But it would stop the disease in its tracks. And the symptoms would all but vanish. That being said, he had no idea if the young woman would even accept it. Or worse, that she would be afraid, and run for her life. In the process, reveal the truth of their family. And perhaps be slain in the process.

Humans found any number of reasons to hate what they could not understand. Derek didn’t want to place his pack in danger. He also didn’t want them to abandon this young woman out of fear. They had taken in Isaac, and that had gone rather well. He could use a friend. Someone of his own age. One that could feel and live as he had. One who could understand what it meant to be a werewolf turned human.

Towards the later part of the evening, Erica awakens. Stunned, and sore. As well as a little confused. Isaac is there to greet her. A warm smile stretched across his face. It’s as welcoming and nonthreatening as he can manage. Had it been anyone else, she would’ve been frightened.

The young woman, understandably, had questions. Derek tries to answer them without giving too much away. She listens intently, never interrupting. Her heart remains steady throughout. And Derek cannot sense any fear from her. Things were going well. Even when they got to the difficult part.

Erica does not seem all that surprised by the fact that she had been rescued by a pack of werewolves. Or the fact that one of her friends, once human, is now one of them. In fact, she seems rather intrigued by the information. What isn’t all that intriguing, is why she was out wandering the woods by herself.

The townspeople had been muttering to themselves. Horrid, nasty things said under their breath every time she was out in public. Rumors fueled by ignorance and fear. Nothing more. They called her a witch. Claiming that she’d consorted with demons.

Eventually, it became more than hushed whispers and harsh glares. People were harassing her. Harassing her family. They couldn’t go into town safely. People were talking of a trial. Of an exorcism. Of all manner of horrible things. So, Erica did the only thing she could think of.

The young woman had taken as much food as her family could spare. And then, she took off into the woods. Trying to make it as far as she could on foot. The roads were good, and well maintained. But traveling was dangerous at night.

The fact that she’d made it as far as she did into the woods was something close to a miracle. Now that she was here, Derek made the offer. There was no place for her back in town. There was no family for her. Not if they wanted to stay safe. Here, in the woods, away from others, she could be safe.

His mother was understandably nervous about the idea. But her instincts were also screaming. It was difficult for an alpha to ignore such a promising addition. Even more so as a mother. The young woman asked for time. Time to think. As the decision would affect the rest of her life. And she needed to fully understand the consequences.

The day started to wane, and Derek gave Erica plenty of space. Isaac stood by her side. Never mentioning anything about being a werewolf. Or the pack for that matter. He was just her friend. Here and helping her deal with the horribleness of what had happened to her.

When the night finally came, and the world seemed to grow quiet, Erica was asleep by the fire. Derek placed a small quilt over her. There was a chill in the air. And she had been through enough. Just as he walked away, the young woman took hold of his tunic. Her eyes were glossy with sleep, but she was awake.

She looked at him like a dying man looked at the heavens. Derek had no willpower in this moment. There was no chance that he was going to leave. Erica didn’t even have to say it. He knew what she wanted, just from the way her eyes quivered.

The bite was made cleanly. The young woman didn’t flinch in the slightest. Derek knew that she would make a wonderful beta. That she would bring him strength. That she would bring everyone strength. Now, all they had to do was wait.

***

Erica, as much as Derek loved her, was a goddamned menace. A menace in general, and a menace overall. She had a complete overhaul when the bite took hold. There was a newfound confidence that she hadn’t had before. And it turned out to be a bit…much.

Derek had to explain, more than once, that while he was very happy that she had a new lease on life, that there were boundaries that needed to be respected. Wolves communicated through contact. Scent marking was an important part of any pack. But there was fine limit to that. And Erica had pushed that more than once.

The young woman was a damn vixen. Playful at the best of times. Lustful at the worst. Derek reprimanded her more than once, but she didn’t seem to get the message. Things weren’t going exactly how he imagined it when he turned her. That changed three weeks later.

The person who came through the woods this time wasn’t injured. Wasn’t ill or distressed. From the scent that he picked up, this human was perfectly healthy. When he appears, he eyes Derek and Peter with pointed suspicion. He doesn’t trust them.

They look at each other, saying nothing. The man isn’t armed. He isn’t afraid. He isn’t angry. But he certainly doesn’t have any reason to relax. His posture is rigid. As if there was iron rod in his spine. That being said, Derek did have an idea of why he was here.

“You’re trespassing. Sate your business.” Derek glared daggers at his uncle. Because he just potentially made this much more complicated.

“I’m looking for someone. She’s….”

“Before that, as my uncle pointed out, this is Hale land. If you wish to stay, kindly give us your name.” The man looked at Derek with slightly softened eyes.

“Boyd. Vernon Boyd.”

“Vernon. Good name. I’m Derek.”

He was different from the people that Derek had come to know when he went into town. From the darkness of his skin, he was from the eastern sea. Their people were proud. Strong soldiers. Fine craftsmen. They were often welcomed hands in whatever town they decided to settle in. From what he knew, they were good people. And he was here for Erica.

“I’m looking for a girl. She’s young, my age. Blonde hair. Green eyes.”

“Erica. She’s safe. But the question is, why are you here?” Derek didn’t distrust Boyd. But he was curious as to the reason behind his presence.

“She…I knew that she left. Her family…They gave her food, and she…I thought she was dead.”

Derek’s gut clenched. His blood went cold. He knew what Erica had gone through. The horror. The pain. The heartbreak of leaving everything behind. Everything that he had ever known. She was pack now, but he could see it.

Some days, were worse than others. She looked deep into the trees, towards the direction of the town. Longing for the life she had. The life she left behind. Derek wished that she could go back. That she could have what was forced from her.

“I want to see her.”

“We’ll bring her to you. But you have to stay here.” Boyd’s heart picked up a notch, but he agreed to the terms nonetheless. Peter reluctantly agreed to go and fetch her. Derek stayed, making sure that the young man did not attempt to follow. Enough humans new where they were already.

They do not talk. They do not do anything but stand still. The silence of the forest surrounding them. Derek can hear their footsteps as they approach. Just as Erica clears the trees, she takes off into a dead sprint. He didn’t have time to stop her before she jumped into Boyd’s arms.

The young she-wolf laughs like he’s the most wondrous thing in the world. Bright, loud, and clear. It’s the happiest since he’d seen her since he made her pack. There was a reason behind that, and Derek figured he knew why.

They were…affectionate. Not courting exactly, but from the way Boyd’s eyes went wide, he was more than just happy to see her. She was more than just happy to see him. He spun her around and around. Laughing right alongside with her. Derek was happy that his beta was happy. But he was also worried.

Boyd couldn’t stay. He was a human, and Erica was not. She was a werewolf now. She was pack now. And there had been enough attention on them as it was. Derek didn’t want to take a risk, and add yet another person. To make another beta. They couldn’t fight off the hunters that could follow.

“I feared the worst.”

“No need for all that. I’m alive. I’m better than I was. They’ve been taking care of me.” She smiled even wider. And Boyd smiled along with her.

“I can’t believe it. How’d they do it? I thought the illness would’ve taken you.” Erica’s face fractured at that. The first thing that Derek taught her was the importance of secrecy. The importance that the outside world was dangerous to them.

That humans, as she’d seen and learned for herself, were fearful creatures. That they hated what they didn’t understand. That they would be in danger if she was revealed to be a werewolf. That the whole pack would be in danger.

She said she understood, and now, in this moment, Derek could see that she really did. There was a lot that they could lose. Their lives most of all. The humans had treated her horribly when she was one of their own. Derek could only imagine what they would do when they discovered that she was a werewolf. 

He moved to kindly, but firmly dismiss Boyd from their land, with note to comfort Erica later, when he smelled it. That green smell. Bright and pure and clean. There was no doubt of who it belonged to. All the wolves perked to attention. Erica, most of all, as she had never before encountered the Fae.

Stiles appeared, out of nowhere, as he always did. He was as striking as ever. Though, this time, he was dressed….Well…Like a commoner. There were no ornate, expensive chains adorning his form. No lustrous robes that seemed to have a life of their own. Had it not been for his scent, he would’ve appeared perfectly human.

“I see you found her. Good job. Though, I fear what happens next might just be less than your joyous reunion.” There was a nasty thing squirming in the corner of Stiles’ eyes. It was anger. And Derek didn’t like that look.

“You always did know when to appear at the opportune moment.” Derek stood beside Stiles. This close, he could feel the anger radiating off the young Fae.

“Present complications back home, and this one’s desperation gave me an excellent excuse as to why I’m here.”

“Complications?” Derek asked. Stiles didn’t answer. It seemed the subject, as he suspected, was a sour one. Erica and Boyd watched the two of them with pointed curiosity. Though, they knew better than to come any closer.

Peter was, as usual, the least thrilled to see Stiles. The man’s posture was rigid and defensive. Derek knew that he disliked the Fae to begin with. But with everything that had happened as of late, with Isaac and Erica joining the pack, Stiles’ presence was the last thing he wanted.

“You’ve been helpful before, but I suspect this time, you’re not here for altruistic reasons.”

“Quite right. Merely to escape my father, and others who have no idea when to be silent.” Stiles’ hands clenched tightly.

“Care to explain?” Derek wondered if he should try and comfort Stiles. That being said, he knew that Fae didn’t exactly behave like wolves.

“They want me to get married. ‘A prince must have a bride.’ Ridiculous, and abhorrent to think about. Saddling me with someone who I’ve never even met. All for the sake of a throne that I don’t even want.”

Derek’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Stiles was being pressured to marry. He was being pressured to marry because he was a prince. Stiles was a prince. He was a Fae prince. Derek had his life saved by a Fae prince.

The realization came as to something of an obvious conclusion. Namely, how strong he was. How the entire forest seemed to sing and dance when he walked through. That, and the chains. None other of the Fae that Derek had seen, even when he was in their world, had such expensive adornments.

But most of all, it was how easily he traversed between this world and his own. The boundaries between the mortal realm and the Fae realm were many. But not all were easily passed through. Stiles seemed to be able to go where he pleased, as he pleased. As if it were the easiest possible thing.

“Pardon my perturbed attitude. But I am in a somewhat foul mood. My father will be looking for me. I should go.” Derek snatched the young Fae’s wrist. The action stunned both of them. He had reacted before he could even think.

“Stay, the night I mean. I can offer you a bed.”

“I feel as if this one would not care for that. Among the others in your pack.” Peter looked at Stiles like he was the worst thing in the world.

“I’m an alpha, if my uncle, or any other member of my pack wishes to challenge my decision, they are free to do so. But I will win.”

Stiles smiled that smile of his. Not the one he smiled when he was being playful or coy. Not when he was plotting mischief. Not when he wanted to make a joke. This was his real smile. This was the real face of Stiles. The one that Derek liked the best.

The Fae agreed to come back, and the matter, at least with Peter, was settled. That meant there was a whole other set of things to deal with. Namely, Boyd. He’d learned of Stiles’ existence, and now, by extension, had a vague knowledge that Erica was no longer human. And the people that she’d been living with were of the same variety.

Stiles, with his wicked smile this time, kindly informed Boyd of what would happen to him should he endanger Erica or the others. The young man swallowed thickly, and assured that he wouldn’t bring any harm to her. Or the pack.

When they arrive back at the house, Talia is waiting for them. Eyes stern, and her face twisted in displeasure. Derek knew that he was going to have an uphill battle. The conversation that was to come wasn’t going to be pleasant. But he had every intention of sticking by the offer he had made to Stiles.

The pack swarms the Fae. Now that they’d established that he wasn’t malicious, or in any way a threat, they had a seemingly endless line of questions. Stiles, for all he was worth, seemed to revel in it. While he was being bombarded, Derek spoke with his mother. The conversation was far shorter than he thought it would be.

By the time the sun starts to set, dinner had been made. There were no stars tonight. The clouds veiled them, making the soon to be night air dark and thick. Stiles, the wonder that he was, summoned little slivers of light. They hung around their heads. Slicing through the darkness like a greatsword.

The pack marveled at his magic. It was a rare thing to see. As most beings he could use such arts were often secretive. Staying away from the knowing world. Such was their lives. Avoiding persecution at all costs.

They eat in revelry. Stiles seems to enjoy the raucousness that is inherent in werewolves. He smiles and laughs alongside the rest of them. And downs ale like it’s no one’s business. He drinks even more than Derek’s father. The two of them seem to make a game out of it. And Derek watches as the Fae’s porcelain cheeks flush red with drunkenness. It was a good look for him.

When it was all said and done, Stiles smelled sweetly of alcohol, and was more than ready to sleep. Derek took him inside while the others cleaned up. His room was more than he needed. When the house was built, Derek’s grandparents made sure that all the rooms were far larger than most would assume.

The bed isn’t as grand as one would find in a large town. It’s a modest thing. Stuffed with the feathers of turkeys that had been expertly cleaned. There was also some horse hair in there that Derek had bought from one of the stablemen from town.

Stiles collapses onto the bed happily. Giggling like a child. Derek swallows the lump in his throat. Seeing a relaxed Stiles stretched out across his bed. With their two scents combining….He had to repress certain thoughts that would’ve otherwise caused him embarrassment.

He would’ve been lying if he’d said that he wasn’t attracted to Stiles. The man was gorgeous. Both as an otherworldly Fae dripping in platinum chains. And as a commonly dressed mortal. Derek made no secret of his attraction to men. He’d just never acted upon them. And with Stiles, he never would.

Even before the realization that he was a prince, Stiles, literally, came from another world. The Fae lived long, long lives. Far longer than any other being. By millennia. Stiles’ world was upside down, turned inside out, and backwards. From everything that Derek had ever known.

Even still…It was something to think about. After seeing the way Stiles had been tonight….He wanted to see that every night. Where he would laugh and sing and drink and be. It was a wondrous thing. And he couldn’t get enough of it.

Derek lays down next to Stiles. Keeping a respectful distance between them. The Fae, now more alert, disregards that. Wrapping himself around Derek loosely. Nestling his face in the crook of the alpha’s neck. It was an overly intimate gesture. One that Stiles couldn’t have understood. Nor the gravity that it carried.

“You smell good, sourwolf.”

“Sourwolf?” Derek was trying to steady his breathing. Trying to be anything other than…aroused.

“Cause your face is so sour. Well, it was when I first met you. It’s a little softer now.” Stiles ran his hand through Derek’s hair. Softly twirling it between his fingers. The alpha purred like a goddamn kitten.

“You smell good to.” It wasn’t a lie. Stiles smelled like spring. Bright and pure and full of life. Derek could never get enough of it.

“I think I’ll stay here.” He was calmer now. Sleepier now.

“For how long?”

“Forever.” Derek didn’t dislike that idea. In fact, he rather liked it. Quite a lot actually. The idea of Stiles in his bed. At his table. In his life.

There were plenty of reasons why it was a bad idea. Why all of this was a bad idea. Right now, it didn’t matter. Stiles was here, wrapped around Derek. And there wasn’t anywhere the alpha would’ve rather been. When he sleeps, it’s the best he’d rested in years.

***

When Derek wakes, he is uncommonly warm. Fall was quickly approaching, so mornings usually came with a chill in the air. This morning, however, he found himself perfectly toasty. Content and settled. He had absolutely no desire to get of bed. He then realized why he was warm to begin with.

Stiles was sleeping soundly, unware of anything else. Not that he needed to be. Derek liked him this way. Settled, without his usual manic energy running about. His face was younger when he slumbered. When the worries of his life were melted away by sleep.

He took it upon himself to trace the lines of the man’s face. Marking little invisible lines between each of his beauty marks. There were too many to count. He stopped once he got lower than the man’s collarbone. Instead, he just watched the man breathe.

Derek felt oddly calm and collected. Given how flustered they’d been when they went to bed the night before. Things were chaotic at the best of times when the Fae were involved. But Stiles was different.

Did he bring a sense of disruption to Derek’s life? Yes. But he enjoyed it. Werewolves were a lively folk, and he’d never known anything of the quiet. Stiles was just a different kind of noise than what he was used to. Derek loved every minute of it. Even if the young man hadn’t saved his life.

He wondered what was going to happen after this. He’d offered Stiles his bed. He’d offered a place for him to sleep. Now, the morning had come, and Derek didn’t want him to go. The Fae himself had said that he wanted to stay. Forever.

Derek….He didn’t know how well that would work. His mother and Peter aside, Stiles didn’t belong in this realm. Not really. He was…Different. Fae could live in either their own world, or the world of mortals. That didn’t meant it would be easy. Stiles’ home would never really be here. No matter how happy it made him to stay.

Just as he was wondering what to do next, the man beside him rose on his own. Eyes fluttering gently open. Limbs stretching and popping as he shook at the vestiges of sleep. He was only slightly flustered to wake up in the bed with Derek. And only slightly flustered when he noticed how close they were. He didn’t seem as flustered when he kissed the alpha.

It was soft and gentle. Stiles’ tasted like a clear drop of rain relieving a drought. Derek didn’t move. Derek didn’t breathe. Then, he kissed the Fae back. It was tender, and not bad for his first real kiss. The other ones had only been at pack mixers. Where they met with other alphas.

This was considerably better. Ten thousand things were going through his head. Why Stiles decided to kiss him? What could they possible do from here? What would the pack say? What would Stiles’ father say? What would his people say? But most of all, Derek thought about never leaving the bed again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

“Me too, and I’m glad you did.” Derek smiled as did Stiles. The world seemed to melt away.

“I don’t think my father would be pleased, nor his advisors, knowing that I’m infatuated with a wolf.”

“Just infatuated?” Derek teased. He kissed the tip of Stiles’ nose.

“This is not a harlequin romance novel, sourwolf. I like you, so, for the moment, can we go from there?”

Derek just kissed Stiles from there. Gently, and with no further intention behind it. Stiles seemed more than happy with that. Eventually, the separated. The smell of roasting meat more than enough to rouse them from under the quilts.

His father and Laura were the first ones up this morning. His sister’s eyebrows went into her forehead when they got into the kitchen. He shot her a look to stay quiet. Stiles defeated that purpose when he kissed Derek’s cheek. The alpha cursed under his breath.

For the first time, he didn’t help with the preparing of breakfast. He stayed firmly by Stiles’ side. And when the rest of the pack came down, he gave them the same look he gave Laura. The reactions varied. Cora said nothing. Isaac as well. Peter’s face twisted like he’d smelled something foul. Erica was grinning like a madman. Boyd, lacking the proper senses, wasn’t even aware. His mother…..

The woman was as strange mix of displeased, confused, and….happy? Derek wasn’t exactly able to gauge her mood. Not with any degree of accuracy anyway. Stiles, the bastard, seemed immune to the tension that had accrued in a matter of seconds.

The Fae seemed entirely focused on stuffing his face. And little else. No one said anything. Until they did. It was, of course, Erica, who spoke first. Derek had to resist the urge to throttle his beta. She didn’t even try to restrain herself. And went straight into the most personal questions possible. Stiles didn’t even flinch.

“Ahem.” Talia never interrupted anyone. As alpha, she always gave every person in the pack, no matter their position, a chance to speak. But she’d silenced Erica in a heartbeat.

“I take it that you’re not happy.”

“There isn’t much…I’m happy that you’ve found someone. Less happy about the choice in the matter.”

Derek understood where his mother was coming from. There were a myriad of things to consider where Stiles was concerned. Namely, he was a Fae. Namely, he was a prince. And that was just the beginning. Derek had no clue about how the others his kind would react.

“I think I won’t take that as an insult.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. But I think you can understand my worries. You’re a Fae, and have no real attachment to this world. What’s to stop you from leaving when you grow bored?”

Derek flinched back from his mother’s question. It was harsh, but no less truthful. The Fae, by any consideration, were capricious in nature. And weren’t known for their lasting attachments. To anyone or anything. The saying went, ‘A Fae’s love dies the moment they look away.’

There were plenty of stories. Plenty of tales. Plenty of legends. There were a great number of them that weren’t very kind to the nature of the Fae. Derek understood why his mother would question Stiles’ affections towards Derek. Even more so given that he was a prince. And even more so given that he was being pressured by his people to marry.

“There are truths buried in lies, and lies buried in truths. The fun part is finding out which is which. Should be easy, given that I can’t lie.”

“Save your games.” Talia’s eyes were red now.

“I like your son. And he likes me. I’m not saying to start ringing the wedding bells. I like him, romantically. And I have no intention of playing with him like a child would a toy.”

Talia’s lips pursed sourly. No one had anything to say. The Fae could not lie. Stiles had been perfectly straightforward. He hadn’t tried to bend or distort the truth in any way. Derek could hear his heartbeat throughout the entire conversation. And there were very few people who could lie and their heart not give them away.

“Alright, say I believe you. What about your father?”

“So glad you asked, as he’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. A little birdie told me.” The Fae did not smile. And once again, he did not lie.

“Does he mean war?” Talia’s voice was on the verge of breaking.

“Not if wishes to see me wage it myself.” Stiles smiled _that _smile. The one that dared anyone, even his own father, to stand in his way.

The rest of the pack gathered fairly quickly. And that, by no means, was a simple task. They were calm and collected as possible. Even with such a dangerous threat looming over their heads. Derek had met Stiles’ father. And he knew a warrior when he saw one.

That wasn’t the only issue at hand. Stiles was a prince, which meant his father was a king. And kings had armies at their backs. Derek’s pack, his family was strong. But they didn’t stand a chance against a literal army. That much, he knew for certain. That being said, they did have Stiles on their side.

If nothing else, he could reason with his father. And Derek also got the impression that he wasn’t going to harm his own son. So, that worked to that advantage as well. It didn’t do anything to lessen the tension that was building between them.

When they converge on the house, Derek can feel them before he sees them. Before he even smells them. There weren’t as many as he’d expected. Stiles’ father was definitely here. Along with Scott. And….the redheaded woman maybe? Lydia, if memory served correctly. As well as a few soldiers.

The trees danced as they walked through the forest. It was by no means a procession. But anything non-human would’ve felt their presence regardless. When they come into the clearing, Stiles’ father is…displeased. Derek can tell that much. The man’s face in pinched in that sour way.

Scott rides alongside him, smiling madly at the sight of Stiles. The redheaded woman, Lydia, is stern faced and stunning. There isn’t much doubt that she’s here for a rather specific purposes. Derek wasn’t exactly keen on finding out what that purpose was. There was another woman that he didn’t recognize. Raven black hair that fell in neat little waves. Derek could tell that she was Scott’s mother.

The man dismounts and stands still. Makes no move to approach. Even when seeing his son. Perhaps it was out of respect. Perhaps it was out of fear. Regardless, Derek could tell he wasn’t here to kill them. There was no scent of bloodlust coming from him. At the very least, they had that working in their favor.

“Thanks for not brining an entire procession. Though I suspect that the others would’ve rather enjoyed it.”

“Now’s not the time for jokes, son. I believe introductions are in order.” Stiles’ father walks curtly over, ignoring his son entirely.

He and Derek’s father exchange greetings. Talia takes no offense. Normally, she would’ve received the man as she was the alpha. The Fae did things in a different, more traditional sense. Wherein the men of highest station exchanged greetings.

The others made themselves known. Scott was well received by the others. The young Fae had an open heartedness about him that was hard to resist. Derek figured that, had he been a werewolf, he would’ve made an excellent alpha someday.

Lydia…Lydia isn’t as welcome. There is an air about here. Something that made her feel older than she truly was. There was the faint scent of a graveyard. Cold, unfeeling earth. And the whisper of something just out of earshot. Derek knew better than to think that she was harmless.

The other woman with them is indeed Scott’s mother, Melissa. She is as warm as her son. Same bronze skin and dark hair. Laura likes her rather immediately. Cora remains standoffish with everyone. She had barely gotten used to Stiles. This many Fae made her uncomfortable. They felt like they belonged and in the same moment, like they didn’t.

Peter, surprisingly, was on his best behavior. As the greetings were exchanged, he made no backhanded remarks. Nor any snide snippets under his breath. Derek was actually impressed with his uncle. Things were going rather well. Stiles’ father was still displeased with the whole situation.

“You do realize that the court is perturbed at your actions. This only gives them more cause to pressure you.”

“Well, father, you can be at ease. There will no longer be any need for that pressure.” Stiles didn’t wait for the man to respond. Didn’t wait for him to ask what he meant. He laced his fingers in with Derek’s.

The entire clearing became silent. Stiles’ father didn’t say anything. He eyed his son with a pointed glare. But there was no heat behind it. There was no anger. Instead, in the back of his eyes, in the barest reaches, there was fear. He was not afraid of his son. No. He was afraid _for _him.

“I won’t question your choice or your judgement. I will question whether you understand what this means.”

“The desire to further a line is so outdated and droll. More than enough time to think about other things.” Stiles still held Derek’s hand.

“Which is why we’re hear.” It was the first time Lydia had spoken. She was deadly serious. And Derek worried about the look in her eyes.

He didn’t have to wonder about it for long. As the young redhead jerked her head towards the trees. There was a scuffle, and some choice swearing. Two Fae soldiers brought out a young woman, bound in ropes. Eyes alight with fire.

“This huntress was found wandering around one of the border realms, looking for entrance. We captured her before she could find it.”

Derek recognized the young woman. She was older now than when he’d first seen her. She’d been with the group of hunters that had come to the town all those years ago. She had stood next to a rather grizzled man. Sapphire blue eyes, and greying hair in his chestnut brown. They were curt, and stiff.

The hunters had harmed no one. If anything, they’d made a point to leave as quickly as they came. They didn’t even bother going into the woods. They seemed to looking for…something. Whatever it was, they had realized that they wouldn’t find it.

“I told you, I mean your people no harm.” Lydia huffed derisively. Scott looked like the woman hung the moon.

“And I told you, hunters are not welcome in our realm. For any reason.” Stiles’ father looked at the young woman with anger, as well as concern.

He had not harmed her. Perhaps because, in his eyes, she was still a child. And it took a certain brand of cruelty to harm a child. Even if they were a hunter. Derek understood that well enough. The question remained though? Why was she here to begin with?

***

It had been a few days since Stiles’ father had arrived. Things were only slighter better. At least, on the front where Stiles and Derek were concerned. The man had accepted that they were courting each other, and that Stiles’ impending marriage to some stranger had been halted. Derek wondered what the other Fae thought of this. As of yet, they had heard nothing from them.

The young woman, Allison, was no less pleased to be the prisoner of the Fae. At the very least, she was no longer bound. She also knew that it would’ve been supremely stupid to try and run. The Fae aside, she was also in the company of werewolves.

She’d given few and sparse details of why she was here. Only that she needed help. And that she was willing to risk the Fae to get it. Which, in one regard, made perfect sense. There were plenty of stories of the Fae helping people. For the right price. From the look in her eyes, Allison was willing to pay damn near anything.

There wasn’t much they could do in the way of making her talk. Derek wasn’t one for torture, and that would’ve helped nothing to begin with. Stiles was also against using magic to charm her into telling the truth. Allison would reveal her motives in time, and on her own terms. Which, now, didn’t seem that far way.

From the moment the Fae had brought out the young huntress, Scott had been smitten. As if she’d hung the moon and stars. Derek had no idea why on earth the Fae would ever think a huntress would make for a good mate. But he wasn’t in any position to judge.

He doted on the young woman with a staggering amount of affection. Allison wanted for nothing. Didn’t have to lift a finger for anything. The Fae doted on her, hand and foot. As if she was a queen. The young huntress was…confused.

Which made a certain modicum of sense. Given that she’d spent most of her life killing anything non-human. Now, she was faced with one such being that seemed to be absolutely enamored with her. Scott was not overbearing or pushy. He gave the huntress plenty of space. And only approached when he knew that she would accept it.

When the young woman realized that the Fae truly did have no motive beyond doting on her, she finally relaxed. If only a little. It was something else entirely. Derek was rather astonished to see such a steel-edged woman comfortable among the creatures that she’d spent so many years killing.

Peter was less than enthused with her presence. But he made no comment on the matter. The man realized that, while his was displeased with the situation, there was more at work. And his personal snippiness would help no one. Not even himself.

Stiles enjoyed the entire thing. He had his father, and his best friends here. Meeting, in a more relaxed way, Derek and the rest of the pack. Of which Boyd was now officially a part of. There was a certain amount of revelry that came with this many wolves and Fae together. There was plenty of drinking.

Derek partook for the first time in his life. He found that, while he liked ale well enough, the wine was bitter to his palate, and he politely refused a second goblet. Stiles sucked down an entire barrel of ale all on his own. The Fae was in full submersion in his hedonistic tendencies. But he was not crass or vulgar. He was just happy.

His father was more reserved, but not less welcoming to the drink. He and Derek’s father got along swimmingly. To stern men, enjoying a drink, relaxing together with their families. It was all very domestic. Derek enjoyed every minute of it. That being said, there was still a lingering fear in the back of his brain.

Allison was here for a reason. And that disturbed him, deeply. That a huntress would seek help from the very creatures, the most dangerous creatures, that she had killed so many of. He wondered what kind of desperation that would require. What kind of despair that would require. What kind of anger that would require.

He tries his best not to think of it. Which isn’t all that hard. Given that Stiles hangs on him at every given opportunity. It’s bother wonderfully distracting, and devastatingly horrible. In the sense that Derek’s cock seemed to have a mind of its own. And no respect for the fact that werewolves could literally smell arousal.

Thankfully, there were so many new people that the particular scent in question would’ve been drowned out. At least, he hoped it would be. The last thing he needed was Peter’s sneering face, glaring down at him knowingly. Derek wasn’t above smacking his uncle.

When the night grew late, and the ale ran dry, things calmed down. And the present Fae decided to return home. With the exception of Scott, who was happily glued to Allison’s side. In the span of a single evening, the two had grown…close.

Perhaps it was the huntress’ desperation that made her malleable. Perhaps it was Scott’s natural charm. But he had been nothing but kind. And Derek could the beginnings of a courtship then and there. He wondered how Fae men courted their prospective mates.

For the most part, Stiles did nothing more than spend time with Derek. Drinking, eating, and dancing. He didn’t make any comment on the matter. He himself was still thinking of ways to court the Fae without resort to outdated clichés.

There were plenty of options. His wolf wanted to hunt down the biggest stag he could find and present it to Stiles. It was both dramatic and practical. Derek was only partly comfortable with the idea. He didn’t have the courage to ask Stiles how he’d feel about being presented with the carcass of an animal as a present.

Scott brought her wildflowers and dew from the morning leaves. Allison seemed to appreciate all the gifts, and the gestures, and the attention. But she was human. Derek wondered if he could ask the man’s father for advice. And after thinking about it, decided that it was a sternly _bad _idea.

As he was lost in thought and angst, Lydia came to sit down beside him. The Fae was as flawless as ever. Dressed in silver robes that would put moonlight to shame. Her stunning red hair flowed in waves. And seemed to move despite their being no breeze.

Derek had to keep himself from squirming. With her this closer the woman’s scent was unavoidable. And he felt his wolf’s hackles raise in alarm. Whatever kind of Fae she was, it was powerful. Powerful in a way different from Stiles, his father, or Scott.

It was something older than werewolves. Older than their magic and their packs. Older than the earth and the trees that sprouted from it. Her power felt…Cold. Yet, in the same moment, oddly familiar. In strange, unnerving way. He wondered if she knew how strong she truly was. And how much she affected those around her.

“Thank you for having us. You had every reason to slam the door in our faces. But you didn’t.” It was a statement as much as it was a question. Derek knew where this was headed.

“Offending the Fae is dangerous business. I’d rather not find out how far I can push.”

“Wise for a wolf. Not so bad. I can see what Stiles sees in you.” The young woman looked off into the distance. Eyes glazed over and peering into a place that Derek was afraid to follow.

“You’re worried. About something I mean.” Derek didn’t want to press, but he was curious.

“I’m a banshee. I’m always worried. Comes with the territory.”

Derek had to, once again, resist the urge to flee. He knew that Lydia was something old. Something terrifying, but banshee was even worse than he’d thought. They were the oldest of the old. The wailing woman. The hag in the mist. There were plenty of names for them. And they all had one thing in common. Death.

Or rather, they could see into death. It lingered in the corner of their vision. And stayed a mere step behind their shadow. There were stories upon stories. Plenty of tales and legends. Some were good. Some were bad. All of them said to be warry of the banshee.

They were always woman. Some helped. Some ignored. Some stayed in the mists of the hills. Derek didn’t know much beyond those stories. But it certainly explained the young woman’s scent. Of why she always smelled like a graveyard. She was trailed by death. And it showed.

“Most mortals run when I tell them what I am. You haven’t. You’re either brave, or a certain brand of foolish.”

“Your powers are strange and terrifying. But I have no reason to fear you. Just as you have none to fear me.” Lydia pursed her lips. Seemingly dissatisfied. Derek could not figure out why.

“I don’t like being here. There’s more death here, than back home. The voices are louder, the dead are louder. If you could hear it, you’d be driven to madness within seconds.”

Derek, even though he was afraid of the young woman, still found room to pity her. She was, in ways that he could not imagine, connected to the forces beyond this life. To ancient, breathless things that defied sense, logic, and reason.

They say banshees lived and died alone. That all were too fearful to give them space or shelter. Lydia seemed to be different. She seemed to be, if not royalty, well received by her fellow Fae. She seemed to have a home. A warm place to rest her head. And Derek could at least see that she was loved.

“I’m sorry that you have such hardships here. I’m afraid I cannot offer any reprieve.”

“You’ve more important things to worry over than my wellbeing. Namely, if you hurt him, if you break his heart, you’ll learn why so many, even amongst my own kind, fear banshees.” Derek swallowed the lump in his throat. She meant every word of what she’d said.

“I have no such intentions. I’m more concerned of how I can keep him around.”

Lydia looked into that place again. The place that Derek was afraid to follow. He didn’t know where it was. But he knew that there, the sun did not shine. It was grey and muted. With shallow screams and hollow, broken dreams. It was a place only for banshees.

“Stiles is different from us. His mother was human. Which is why he’s so drawn to your world. Half of his blood is from this place. And it will never be quieted by something as capricious as the whims of the Fae.”

“Then him being here shouldn’t be a problem. Him staying either. So why does everyone seem so afraid of that?” Derek was getting answers now. He wanted to get more.

“Because his father’s blood is both old and noble. His stands as king of one of the five Fae kingdoms. You’ve seen it. We call it the Land of Eternal Trees. Your kind calls it the Silver Forest. Stiles is heir to that. At least, he was.”

“And what could’ve changed the rightful heir’s position to their throne?”

“You. You happened. Stiles cannot take the throne with a wolf as a mate. You cannot bear him children. Even if were are long lived, there must be someone to take the mantel upon his death.”

Derek wondered, truly, if that was the case. That Stiles could no longer be a prince if he was mated to a wolf. That Lydia was indeed telling the truth. The Fae could not lie. But banshees were different, even among their own kind. She, and hers, might be the only ones who could lie. And he did not have the courage to ask her.

“Stiles is of old Fae blood. He is strong beyond reproach. But his mortal blood means he cannot live as long as the rest of us. And that means, above all else, he must have an heir. You cannot provide that. Though, I suspect, you have every intention of providing everything else he could want.”

“I want him to be happy. And if I, within my realm of power, can make it so, then I wish to do so. He wants to make me happy. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that all two people courting each other need?”

“Your world and mine work differently. Stiles has gotten away with much in his life. Namely, having a banshee for a friend. And a wolfspawn as well. We aren’t regarded as equals. Yet he has allowed us into his lives, and by extension, his father’s life. That, among other things, has perturbed several parties.”

Derek cringed as the woman’s scent turned ashy with anger. It made her usual smell even more terrifying. She was angry. Angry at things that he knew nothing. The world of Fae politics eluded him, and he had no desire to learn more of them.

“All I can tell you is that he is simple. Whatever stories you’ve heard of us, they don’t apply to Stiles. He does not care of sweet words or false kindness. Give him something from the heart, or don’t give him anything at all.”

She doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she leaves Derek with his thoughts. And the newfound of knowledge of what she’d told him. There was a lot to consider, and plenty to worry about. But he ignored it all. Instead, he chose to think of what Stiles might like. Not as a Fae, nor as a half-Fae, but as a person. Because that was the only way Derek was going to get anywhere with him.

***

Derek had been working for three days trying to make a gift for Stiles. Every part of him was confused on the matter. His wolf wanted nothing more than to hunt down the biggest stag he could find. Which, of course, would’ve been fine. Had Stiles been a wolf.

Which he wasn’t. He was a Fae, well, a half-Fae. Who wouldn’t have appreciated the carcass of an animal as a present. The Fae were capricious and tricky. And in Stiles’ case, his human nature made him wily and rambunctious. Derek was at loss. And he certainly wasn’t going to ask his family for advice.

His mother and sisters aside, he would rather die than ask Peter for anything. So, he pondered and he pondered and he pondered. Until, after several days of angst and self-loathing, he had an idea. Derek wasn’t the greatest craftsmen. So, he went to town for the blacksmith.

Thankfully, the man had also been trained as a silversmith. And was well versed in the making of jewelry and trinkets. He gave Derek a funny look when he asked for the item to be made. But he made it nonetheless. It was more perfect than he could’ve imagined.

When he presents it, Stiles is, understandably, confused. The Fae, even the half-Fae, appreciated trinkets and bobbles as much as any other race. Especially those with specific meaning and intent. There was little doubt of what this meant in Derek’s mind. Now, he just had to convey it to Stiles.

“It’s made from the antlers of the first buck I ever hunted. Sort of a trophy. But now, a gift.” The man didn’t say anything. Instead, he kissed Derek sweetly. As if he was the most precious thing in the world.

Stiles promised to return Derek’s gift. And later that night, he did. There was yet another large dinner. More of a party really. Scott and Allison attended. The beast Fae had all bet won the young huntress’ heart. As well as her affections. Derek wondered, truly, how that was going to work in the end. He also wondered where Stiles was.

He got his answer when the torches dimmed. And the night’s darkness crept inwards. Surrounding them in a soft, silent embrace. Derek was unafraid. He knew that this was Fae magic. And that Stiles was up to…something.

The answer became clear when the air was filled with a soft, silvery glow. Along with the most subtle of sweetness. Derek had only ever knew it once. When he was a pup, in the late of autumn. Just when the first chill of winter had started to settle.

Moon Blossoms. A rare, elusive flower. One that was prized among werewolves. Namely because they could only grow under the light of a full moon. Making them impossible to cultivate or grow outside of magic. And magic this was.

Every tree surrounding them was literally dripping with the flowers. Their soft glow cut through the darkness with ease. And Derek was left in awe. As was the rest of the pack. The flowers, even to bitten wolves, held a certain majesty. Something that defied explanation or understanding.

He had Stiles wrapped in his arms before the Fae could understand what was happening. As far as gifts went, there was very little that could top this. The rest of the pack cleared their throats when Derek had still been holding Stiles off the ground. As far as the dinners and celebrations went, it was the best in recent memory. Which is why everything had to go to shit after that.

Derek knew that there was a threat. Given the fact that Allison was here. She’d come seeking help from creatures she’d spent her entire life hunting. There weren’t that many details. Derek had gleaned a few. What he did manage to hear was…disheartening.

Apparently, Allison’s grandfather was none other than Gerard Argent. A man notorious for his savagery. As well as his mercilessness. He killed anything non-human without so much as a ounce of compassion. As well as any humans that stood in his way. That’s just the way he hunted. Apparently, his eldest child had grown tired of such barbarism.

Supposedly, there was a splinter within the family. Gerard’s wanted all-out war. Slaughtering man, woman, and child. To bring death to any who would stand against them. Which of course would’ve ended horribly.

Humans feared what they didn’t understand, yes. Humans often retaliated with violence towards what they didn’t understand. But there were forces older than them in this world. Older and powerful and very much needed.

Gerard wanted a world that belonged to humans. But there were spirits and nymphs and guardians in every forest. In every lake. In every rock and tree. And if they died, so would humans. Because they existed alongside each other. Werewolves and Fae and others as well. Gerard’s ambition would kill much more than just what he hated.

The side that went with Chris….They still wanted to kill non-humans. But they had to have a just cause and reason. Murdering children in their beds would solve nothing. And Chris knew this. His sister, apparently, didn’t care. As she sided with their father, and an internal strife had been born.

Allison had escaped before the fighting reached their home. Once someone stood against Gerard, they were nothing to him. They were as good as dead. And he would make sure that they never stood against him again.

Derek discussed this revelation with his family. A madmen leading a group of zealots was now on the warpath. Killing everything that stood in their way. If that path came towards their home, they would have a choice to make. Stay and fight. Or flee. Derek knew what he wanted.

Stiles was from here. As was Derek. This was their land and their home. They had every right to exist peacefully amongst themselves. Peter was agreeable to the idea. Namely because he would get to kill some hunters. His sisters were more concerned. His father was as well. Talia was against the idea entirely.

Stiles….Stiles was intrigued. The idea of war did not suit him. The idea of fighting did not suit him. But the idea of teaching an arrogant, violent, hateful mortal a lesson? That idea intrigued him _greatly. _Scott was on board as well. Namely because of Allison. The wolfspawn would’ve gladly went to war for the young huntress.

The matter was divided. But they quickly ran out of time. Because Stiles’ eyes went dark. And there was a tremor in the air. As well as the scent of blood. Derek knew that smell. It was of death and pain. There were hunters here.

By their own fortunes, it was Chris and his merry band of men. They were covered in blood. Obviously tired. With their horses half dead where they stood. Derek was impressed they’d even made it here. He didn’t have time to question why they were able to find this place. He didn’t need to.

They’d just searched were Allison had gone missing, and went from there. When the discussion of the Fae came into the mix, and that she had been poking around their borders, common sense did the rest. Peter didn’t want them here. Neither did Talia. But they needed men, and they needed a plan.

Thankfully, Stiles had one. Even by his own standards of being mischievous and devious, this was borderline insane. But it also had a great chance of success. Gerard and his men would be defeated. With minimal casualties on their end, and maximum on their enemies. Now, the question was this. How did one summon an elder god?

When Stiles first relayed the plan, it sounded insane. Insane beyond reason. So much so that it defied any expectation that any of them had. It was also the most brilliant as it played to their strengths. Because, according to Stiles, in every forest, no matter how large or small, there was a god.

Forests were where the oldest gods liked to settle. They may not be powerful or tremendous. But they were still old, and responded to old things. Such as the prayers and offerings of their children. The Fae were said to be the first children of the forest. The first children of the trees. Therefore, the gods that settled there would always listen to them.

Chris, understandably, didn’t care for the idea in the slightest. The idea of a mortal directly petitioning a god, for anything, was a frightening concept. He had killed men and monsters. But a god was another story entirely. They were older than the steel he carried.

The pack seemed okay with the concept of it. So long as they god left in peace, and did not demand something horrible from them in return. Stiles assured them, that so long as they did not pay the god offense, there would be no issues. Expect for that there was.

As it turned out, old gods liked to sleep. And when Stiles and Lydia summoned the god in question, it had been in the process of a rather extensive nap. It was more than disgruntled, it was actually kind of pissed. Stiles managed to direct that anger elsewhere.

As it also turned out, this god did not like mortals. Well, mortals that brought war and bloodshed to his forest anyway. Chris kept his head bowed in fear, and Allison did the same. Stiles made sure that Gerard was the issue, not his son or granddaughter. The god listened intently, and agreed to give them support. On one condition.

Stiles, as the one who petitioned him, had to offer something in return. Gods didn’t just answer prayers willy-nilly. One had to show that they were willing to give something in return for something. That their sacrifice would help bring about the fruition of their goal. Stiles offered the god his blood without so much of a drop of hesitation.

The god, pleased with the offering, promised that no death would be had. And that the men who perpetrated war and madness would see their end. Derek hoped that the god meant Gerard. And not anyone else.

That night, they did not drink. They did not feast. They sat in still contemplation. There was a battle ahead, and they had no idea what come with it. Gerard may just decide to burn the whole forest down, and with it, the god that slept there. Dashing any hopes they may have had.

Stiles was the first to know they were here. Gerard had been tracking Chris for weeks. And was more than eager to remove his biggest obstacle. Their footsteps did not get very far into the forest. As the trees were more than happy to block their path. And when Gerard did decide to try and burn the forest, he found no luck.

The wind smothered any spark, trampled any flame he tried to conjure. There was nothing he could. Derek and the others heard their screams cut through the dense greenery. Knowing full and well the men that Gerard had brought with him would not leave this forest. Alive or otherwise.

It seemed to go on for hours and hours. The day stretched into night. Until, finally, the trees stilled. Silent and stone. Chris and his men still had their swords drawn. There was no telling if it was truly over or not. But as the stars filled the sky, Derek knew, whatever the god had done, Gerard and his ilk were no more. They may not have been dead. But whatever else had been done with them certainly wasn’t any better.

There wasn’t much a party to speak of. Chris and his father were literally at each other’s throats. Ready to wage war and slay each other. There was still a part of the man that languished in his father’s passing. Allison as well. Derek offered them kind words and a bed for the night. The both of them declined.

Lydia gave Allison a strange token. And invited her back to their home, properly, is she ever desired to visit. The young huntress gave the banshee a smile, and promised to return the favor. Chris simply left. Things had settled. Things were okay. Except that they weren’t. As Derek noticed the change in Stiles almost instantly.

The young Fae had retreated away. Towards the trees that had taken Gerard and his men. Derek followed. There was a bitterness in the air. One that made his stomach tie into knots. And his spine lock into rigid iron. He knew it as grief. Stiles was grieving. For what reason, Derek didn’t know. Until he did.

The god hadn’t just asked for Stiles’ blood. He’d asked for Stiles’ Fae blood. The blood that allowed him to move between this world, and the world of the Fae. He was one of the only ones who could do so freely and easily. Stiles, by his own choice, had severed the connection to his homeland.

“You weren’t, going to tell me, where you?” Stiles looked at him with tear glistened eyes.

“No. I figured you’d assume that I had decided to stay here. Guess you’re smarter than I gave you credit for, sourwolf.”

“What does your dad think about this? What about Scott and Lydia?”

“Lydia would never chastise me for the freedom of making my own choice. And Scott…He’s enamored with Allison beyond measure. He wasn’t going back to the Fae. At least I’ll have him to. But my father….He’s angry. But he also understands why I did what I did.”

Derek knew why Stiles did what he did. And in the same moment, he didn’t. Gerard was a threat, yes. That much was certain. But not so much that he would’ve had to give up his homeland. That he would’ve had to leave behind everything and everyone he’s ever known.

“Gerard wouldn’t have stopped at Chris. He would’ve killed anything that got in his way. And that would’ve spread to the world of the Fae. The forests would’ve burned. The rivers turned black with ash. I made a choice. Now, I have to live with it.”

There was only one problem with that. Derek didn’t know how well Stiles could fare in this world. Half his blood may have been from this realm, but his home was with the Fae. And now, not being able to even see them when he wanted…he didn’t know how the young man was going to adjust.

***

It had been a month since they’d defeated Gerard. A month since Stiles had conjured the god of the forest. A month since he’d sacrificed his blood, his connection to his people. Things were better. The young Fae was surprisingly adaptable. He had fit in well.

The people in town adored him. While they had always treated Derek and the others with a certain amount of suspicion, they embraced Stiles with warm, open smiles. Maybe it was because he was part Fae. Maybe it was because the young man just attracted people to him naturally.

Regardless, he was blending in as a human rather well. The pack had finally adjusted to the Fae’s presence as well. They no longer had that sense of lingering fear in their chests when he was near. Even Peter had stopped being a complete ass on the matter.

Scott was another issue entirely. The young wolfspawn had whined and cried when Allison left. The young huntress promised to return. Chris had eyed the Fae with a pointed glare. Not hatred, but he certainly wasn’t happy with his daughter’s suitor.

He had been somewhat despondent ever since. Derek had tried his best to cheer the Fae up. To little success. The wolfspawn was sullen and somewhat ill tempered. Isaac changed that. It was an odd friendship, but one that worked for them. And it managed to get Scott out of his funk. Stiles was only a little jealous.

By the time Stiles had settled into acting the role of human, he and Derek had settled in with each other. They shared a room now. And were more than happy to spend long nights with little to no clothing. Much to the rest of the pack’s dismay.

Erica made plenty of remarks towards the matter. And Derek was more than happy to silence her in regards of bedroom habits. She and Boyd had to be told, several times, to be quiet. Things were going well. There was peace, if stress. And nothing that could’ve ruined it.

Stiles’ father visited them not too long after. Stiles had sacrificed his blood in payment. And was no longer allowed to move freely between this world, and the world of the Fae. That did not mean, however, that the world of Fae could not come to him.

Through some grand magic unknown, Stiles’ father brought part of the Silver Forest to the mortal realm. If only a small piece of it. There was a festival of sorts. A Fae celebration. To commemorate the Harvest Moon. And the goddesses of fertility. There was more wine than Derek had ever seen anyone drink. It was in fact strong enough to get a wolf rather knackered.

There was plenty of food to go with it. Derek had never eaten so much in his life. It was good. Everyone, for the first time in forever, had the greatest time of their lives. Stiles, as he did when he was in such a mood, drank an entire barrel by himself. There was a lot of dancing involved. Derek was more than happy to watch.

He himself, for the first time in his life, got drunk. Not as much as Stiles, Isaac, or Peter. But it had been the first time that there was wine strong enough to achieve the desired effect. He was warm and giddy and happy.

Stiles collapsed down in bed next to him in the early hours of the morning. Smelling sweetly of alcohol and lust. Derek, while normally more than happy to oblige, knew that it was a bad idea. Given that the both of them had been drinking.

“I had fun.” The Fae’s words were surprisingly clear for someone who had drank as much as he had.

“I had fun as well. I think that was the first time your father enjoyed having me around.”

“He likes you. I told him about the pendant you made me. He was flustered.” Stiles hiccuped and smiled like a child on Yule.

“Flustered? What a thing to think about.” In truth, Derek had been thinking about trying to move to the world of the Fae. Of trying to find a way for Stiles to return to his homeland. To be with the people who grew up around.

It was a dangerous thought. Stiles’ sacrifice was one that the god had accepted. And one that would be disgraced if Derek had asked for a reprieve. He didn’t want to offend a literal god. Or his mate for that matter. Which was another thing to think about entirely.

Stiles was…good. Mischievous and callous at times. He drank too much at parties. And sometimes sassed more than he should’ve. But he was also kind. Compassionate. Without desire for praise or compensation. With the lust for exaltation. He was just good.

Derek felt his wolf purr in content as their mate drew closer. His head resting on the man’s chest. Soft and easy breaths as he surrendered into sleep. He never got tired of the sight of it. Stiles was always full of wild, frantic energy. Of magic and starlight. When he slept, that energy slept with him.

His eyes would always flutter shut. And his face would ease into a gentle relaxation. Derek moved a few stray hairs away from the Fae’s face. Watching as his chest rose and fell. It wasn’t long before he joined him. Easily resting with a belly full of wine. He wondered if Stiles felt the same way. If he enjoyed watching Derek sleep. And the way he slept. At this point, it didn’t really matter. They were here, nestled in a wingbeat of moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> That was fun, among other things. And I hope that ya'll will check out my other fics, as there is plenty to read. Thanks for giving it a shot, and as always, much love.


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